


Harmful Secrets

by fireworksinthenight



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, comfort/hurt, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-09-25 08:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20373808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireworksinthenight/pseuds/fireworksinthenight
Summary: Donatello gives in to the blackmail of an old enemy. As he fights to keep his actions a secret from his family, he can only hope that said enemy won’t double-cross him before he has a chance to figure things out. What other choice does he have, when the life of one of his brothers hangs in the balance?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _2012 verse, canon-divergent. Starts during Season 3, after the turtles and their allies have taken back New York City. Donatello-centric._

Donatello hurried through the dark tunnels of the sewers. The meeting point was only fifteen minutes away from his home, but he had been delayed. His brother Michelangelo had decided that he needed his company, and offered to help him with whatever project he currently had.

Donatello couldn't tell him that his current project involved meeting with an old enemy, and had pretended that he was in the process of cleaning up his lab - a task he was positive Michelangelo had no affinity for. Alas, his brother was persistent, and Donatello had been unable to sneak out before the beginning of Michelangelo's favorite ongoing show.

Brushing him off only to leave the lair would have been strange at best, suspicious at worst - and if there was something Donatello absolutely didn't want at the moment, it was to make one of his brothers suspicious.

The turtle mechanically brushed his bō staff. He doubted that he would use it - his interlocutor had made very clear what would happen if he did - but he still felt reassured by the familiar weight of the wooden weapon.

He arrived at the meeting point, an intersection between three different tunnels that would have been perfect for a trap.

Well, the precaution was useless. He was already trapped.

"Welcome, turtle."

The feminine voice made him wince. He turned around to meet the incomer, a young teenager with dark hair, a plaid skirt and giant boots.

A girl that had been April's best friend before they all learned, in the most dramatic of circumstances, that she wasn't human at all.

Donatello looked bitterly at the robotic body of one of the most dangerous Kraang he had the dubious honor to meet - Kraang Subprime, the only one that mastered the English language.

These days, he went by the name Irma.

Donatello's hands clenched to fists, and maybe they moved a little towards his back, because Irma clicked his tongue.

"Oh, no, don't even think about it." She smiled. "Not if you want your brother to live - which you do, correct?"

Irma's cold look was piercing him.

"You poor creatures. You care so much, it's disgusting."

Donatello swallowed hard and fought to avoid telling her just what he thought of her actions. Yelling at an enemy who held all the cards was rarely a good idea. "I'm here. Let's finish this."

The inhuman girl smiled again. "I can't believe you didn't move," she cooed. "Did you think I would never dare to come back?" She squealed, opening her robotic arm to show a touch screen and a red light flashing. "And now, one move and one of your brothers dies. Isn't it great?"

Donatello closed his eyes briefly. Why, indeed, had they considered that their old lair would be safe, when it had been discovered and invaded by an alien army only a few months ago? Granted, they had ultimately defeated said army - too bad that one of them came back to haunt his family. To haunt him.

He didn't even know if it was Leonardo, Michelangelo or Raphael who had been drugged and implanted with the tiny bomb. As far as he could tell, all of them seemed fine.

"Why do you need this data?" he asked. "Invading Earth didn't work last time."

Irma shrugged. "I have new plans."

Donatello considered her. She sounded more calm and casual than he had expected - the Kraang Subprime he remembered was brutal and violent, and once discovered, immediately switched to full battle mode.

But Irma had fooled April and her telepathic abilities for an entire year.

Donatello didn't know what to think, and chose to change the topic by asking another question that was burning his lips.

"Why me? There are so many mutants in New York."

The creature in front of him rolled her eyes. "It felt appropriate, considering our history. Besides, how many mutants have studied biology? I need a test subject able to precisely describe his feelings. It's important for the accuracy of this experiment."

Irma took a small vial from one of her pockets and held it out to Donatello, who took it with great reluctance.

"Remember," she said coldly. "One drop every day."

Donatello took the vial.

"I will remember." He watched the blue liquid inside the vial, his throat dry. "How can I be sure that it won't kill me?"

"You can't. Believe it or not, this time I don't intend to kill you - unless you make me." Irma pushed her glasses up her nose. The illusion was perfect - even now that Donatello knew better, it was hard to believe that she wasn't a human teenager. "I'll be expecting your reports to be detailed and precise. And needless to say, not a word to anybody else."

She waved at him as if they were the closest of friends. "Have fun!"

Donatello watched her depart, his heart heavy. She had promised that everybody would live if he followed her instructions, but he knew she was going to double-cross him at some point. It was only a matter of time.

But what else could he do except to buy some time, when one of his brothers was now a ticking bomb, and she was the detonator?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I was surprised when the turtles kept their old home after the invasion. After all, it had been utterly compromised. That plus my will to explore different threads in the cartoon’s lore lead to this story._


	2. Which One?

When Donatello came back to the lair, he noted with deep relief that none of his brothers had noticed his absence. Michelangelo was still in front of the TV, and from the sounds coming from the dojo, Leonardo and Raphael were training together. His father was nowhere to be seen - probably meditating in his room.

Donatello slipped inside his lab and closed the doors behind him, before leaning against one of the panels. He breathed deeply, trying not to panic. _So far, so good._

For a brief second, he wished that the last two hours had never happened, that he was still safe inside his home, that Irma had never contacted him.

However, wishful thinking wasn't going to help, and he had a brother to save. Preferably without killing himself in the process.

It was time to examine the vial that Irma had given him, and its content. Should he lock himself in his lab to do so? That way, he was sure that he would have the time to hide anything suspicious if somebody tried to enter. But it would also make his brothers very curious, and of course Mikey would stop at nothing to know what he was doing. Not that Raphael and Leonardo wouldn't want to know too. On the other end, it wouldn't be the first time that he went to such lengths to have some peace and quiet.

Or he could keep the door unlocked and pretend that it was an experiment of some kind. It wouldn't even be wrong. But what if Mikey played with it? His brother loved to interfere with Donatello's most dangerous experiments.

And this time, he was unable to predict just how dangerous it was.

Donatello shuddered at the thought of Mikey accidentally taking some of the vial's content. No, he couldn't take that risk.

Having made his decision, he locked the door and sat at his desk, switching on a powerful lamp. He grabbed a notebook, took the vial and examined it. It was electric blue, and more viscous than water. Going under his self-made extractor in case it released a poisonous smell, he opened it.

Nothing happened. Good, it meant that it didn't react with oxygen and…

Somebody banged on the lab doors. "Donniiiiiie!"

Donatello quickly recorked the vial and hid it in his belt, but he didn't open the door. "Yes, Mikey?"

"Donnie, I'm bored. Help me!"

Donatello winced. He had hoped that his brother would be watching TV for another hour at least, but Michelangelo seemed to have a sixth sense. It was as if he knew when Donatello didn't want to be disturbed, and made a point of doing just that.

Then he remembered that maybe Michelangelo was now in mortal danger, and wondered anxiously if Irma's detonator was the only way of triggering the bomb, or if strong emotions could activate it too. Maybe he was worsening things by upsetting his brother?

The banging renewed. "Donnie!"

Taking his decision, Donatello opened the door and Michelangelo burst inside, glaring at him.

"You know I don't like when you lock yourself up," he moaned. "It makes me believe that I'm not welcome."

Donatello pointed a finger up, indicating that he was about to share invaluable wisdom and hoping that his brother couldn't tell how fast his heart was beating, or how worried about him he was.

"You see, Mikey, the whole purpose of locking a door means that you don't want to be disturbed. So basically, nobody is welcome."

Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at him before swirling across the room. Donatello ran behind him to make sure that he wasn't going to accidentally knock over precious scientific equipment. Like that microscope, here in the corner.

"Oops!"

"Be careful, Mikey, this baby is delicate!" Donatello half-heartedly scolded him. Could an impact also trigger the bomb? No, probably not. Irma would have warned him if it did, she wouldn't want her experiment to stop before it had even begun, would she?

Still, he would feel better if his brother settled down and did a nice, quiet activity. Like reading. Or meditating.

Well, it was Michelangelo, so the first possibility was more likely.

"Don't you have a new comic book to read?"

Michelangelo shook his head. "Nope. And I don't want to read the old ones, I want to hang out with you."

His grin was so wide that a wave of guilt engulfed Donatello. But how was he supposed to figure things out with the vial and Irma if he didn't have time to think?

He hadn't even thoroughly checked the lair for hidden cameras or microphones. He suspected that Irma might have left a few of them. She was too well informed about their whereabouts.

He wondered if Irma would be angry if he removed them. She hadn't forbidden him to do so. Her instructions had been crystal clear: she wanted him to take the vial's content, one drop at a time, and to report to her every day with his feelings and symptoms - if any. Or one of his brothers would die.

He didn't doubt that she had indeed managed to implant a bomb inside one of them - she had described the process in great detail to Donatello, as much as leaving the syringe she had used in his very own lab. He didn't know if she had been inside the lair or sent a drone, but the fact was that he had found it behind his desk, like she had described it.

He had searched it for DNA traces to know if it was Michelangelo, Raphael or Leonardo who was carrying the bomb, but hadn't found anything. Of course, he could check each of his brothers in turn, and he would have his answer - except it would trigger the device and kill them.

Donatello tried not to think about what Irma's mixture was going to do to his body. Was it some sort of mutagen? Or retromutagen? Or something else entirely? Or…

"Sewers to Donnie. You're not paying any attention to me!"

Michelangelo's pouting voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Uh, sorry, Mikey."

Michelangelo let out a deep, disappointed sigh.

"It's not fun if you don't listen at all, Dee. You should focus more."

Donatello gaped as Michelangelo patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll come with practice."

Right before he left, having apparently understood that his brother really needed his peace and quiet to sort his troubled thoughts, Michelangelo turned around to point a finger at Donatello.

"I'll be back," he whispered.

Donatello kept watching the doors for a long time after Michelangelo had closed them behind him, his heart aching. Michelangelo, his so lively and ready-to-help brother.

Was it him?

* * *

Donatello should have known that his tranquility wouldn't last long. He had barely evaluated the density of the foreign liquid and written down the result in his notebook when he heard a polite knock at his doors.

"Donnie?"

Raphael. He rarely disturbed him in his lab, so it had to be something important. Was he feeling strange because he now had a Kraang-designed foreign body under his skin?

Donatello ran to the doors and unlocked them.

"Yes, Raph?" he exclaimed, leaning forward to take a closer look at him. Was his skin a different color? Paler, maybe?

Raphael took a surprised step back. "What's with you?" he protested.

"Uh, sorry." Donatello did his best to hide his embarrassment and concern as he straightened up.

Raphael crossed his arms. "I just wanted to tell you that Casey's dad is getting rid of his old satellite dish. He wants to know if you're interested."

Donatello breathed deeply. He got along better with Casey these days. During their time at Northampton, he had realized that they had more in common than he thought - apart from the fact that they were both in love with the same girl, that was. They shared a passion for mechanics, and Casey had helped him more often than not with his engineering projects… And he was always on the lookout for spare parts.

"Yes, thank you. It's nice from him."

Raphael nodded. "Alright. I'll tell him to save it for you." Tilting his head, he looked at Donatello's hands. "What are you working on? Retromutagen again? I thought you didn't know how Mikey had altered your last mixture."

Donatello realized with horror that he had his notebook in hand, open and showing a detailed sketch of the vial as much as his latest calculations. In his eagerness to check on Raphael, he had forgotten to hide it. Worse, the vial itself was still on his desk…

His eyes widened in horror. A plan. He needed a plan to distract Raphael's attention.

"It's… it's…" He wedged the notebook between his elbow and his shell and intertwined his fingers. Time to bring out the big guns. "I'm in the middle of designating a new process for following the chemical interactions of biological compounds, as well as comparing the relative merits of Newton's principles versus Einstein's relativity theory when measuring the mass of an object that's…

Raphael hastily threw up his hands. "My bad. Sorry I asked."

Donatello tried not to look too smug. It worked every time.

Raphael shook his head. "Well, I'll leave you to your work, then." He took a last look at Donatello. "And take some rest, Donnie, you look terrible."

Donatello nodded, watching Raphael depart. He had no doubt that he was looking terrible. Being blackmailed by aliens and threatened with the death of a beloved one could do that to you, not that he would have told Raphael that.

Raphael, so caring in spite of his declared toughness.

Was it him?

* * *

Donatello was completely unsurprised when he heard somebody knock at his door for the third time. Some days, it seemed that his brothers spread the word to prevent him from achieving anything.

"Donnie, do you have a minute?"

Donatello quickly hid the vial and his notebook and opened the door, resigned.

"Sure, Leo. Come in."

He discreetly watched his brother for signs that he might carry a bomb, however tiny. Leonardo looked tired, but after everything they had gone through in the previous weeks - them saving New York, again, repelling the Kraang, again, and bringing back the citizens from Dimension X - it wasn't so surprising. Was his knee aching again? No, his brother had assured them that it was completely healed.

Leonardo raised an eye ridge. "Uh, Donnie?"

Donatello realized that his inspection hadn't gone unnoticed and coughed.

"Sorry. What did you want to say?"

"I would like to make sure that the Kraang left nothing behind them in New York," Leonardo began. "No portals, no technology, nothing. I never want to see their faces again."

Donatello bit his tongue to avoid telling his brother that it was a good idea, although it might be a little late.

"April will help us," Leonardo went on. "She thinks she can detect alien technology." He smiled. "And if there are any portals left, I trust Mikey to find them." He shook his head. "Anyways. Do you have anything that could help? We have April's mind skills and Mikey's intuition, and I would like to add your crazy inventions to the mix. I don't want to miss anything."

Donatello bit his tongue harder. A fully functional Irma lurking in the sewers probably counted as 'anything', but he couldn't tell Leonardo that. After a few seconds, though, he realized that his brother was waiting for an answer and carefully opened his mouth to talk.

"I…I…"

Leonardo tilted his head. "Yes?"

"I have my old mutagen-detector," Donatello finally said. "It would need a few adjustments, but with a little work…"

"That would be perfect." Leonardo nodded. "Do you think it'll be ready for tonight's patrol?"

"Tonight's patrol is in three hours." Donatello couldn't help glaring at his brother. Did he think it was that easy? He would have to rework the structure, and maybe weld a few of the spare parts he had salvaged from their last fight with the Kraang. He could already picture the drawing in his head - but it would take him most of these three hours, hours he needed to work on something entirely different.

Leonardo must have understood his brother's reticence, because he looked sheepish. "Yeah, I guess it's not much time."

"No kidding," Donatello muttered.

"Do your best, okay? At the very least, it'll still detect mutagen. Everything else is a bonus."

Donatello nodded. There was nothing else he could do - Leonardo was right, it was best to check if the Kraang had left anything behind. In any other situation, it would have become his number one priority.

"I'll try."

"Thanks, Donnie. You're the best."

Donatello managed a poor smile, a smile that disappeared as soon as his brother left the lab.

Was it Leonardo? Attacking the leader would have been a clever move. In one stroke, Irma made sure that Donatello would cooperate, and that they wouldn't be able to retaliate easily if anything went awry.

Donatello let himself sink in his chair and took his head in his hands. He couldn't be sure why Irma hadn't told him which one of his brothers it was - he suspected that it was a petty revenge on her part for literally reducing her to pieces - but the uncertainty was driving him crazy.

Not that it mattered in the end. For each and any of them, he would have gone to hell and back. Hopefully back.

With a deep sigh, Donatello straightened up. He had no time to lose if he wanted to send his first report to Irma before they went out for patrol. Feeling numb, he took the vial -

opened it -

collected a single drop with a pipette -

and swallowed it.


	3. First Observations

It was burning. That was the first thing that came to his mind as the droplet made contact with his tongue, then his throat. The feeling quickly faded, though, and he breathed in relief.

He wasn't dead.

Good.

Donatello remained seated for a while, waiting to see if there would be any consequences - would he feel dizzy? Have a headache? Morph into a giant squid?

But nothing happened, and after a while he dared to grab his notebook and write his first impressions. Then he pondered how he should use the time that was left before tonight's patrol - should he keep studying the vial's content or try to make his mutagen-detector better?

On one hand, it was essential that he learned as much as possible about the substance he was letting into his body, but on the other hand, maybe detecting Kraang technology could help his case. For example by helping him to find traces of Irma's interference in the lair, like cameras or microphones, or their Kraang equivalent.

Nodding to himself, he decided to improve his mutagen detector. By the time his brothers called him, he had a fully functional 2.0 version. It would require a few adjustments, of course, but it would do the job for now.

"I'm coming!" he shouted, before realizing that he hadn't sent his report to Irma yet. He quickly went to his laptop and typed a few sentences. He still didn't feel any different, but maybe the substance took time to take effect. Or maybe it only worked at higher doses.

Only time would tell.

As Donatello went out of his lab, his new detector in his arms, he was met with the incredulous looks of his brothers. Not that he hadn't expected it.

"Uh, Donnie? What's this?" Raphael asked with the utmost caution.

"A detector for Kraang technology," Donatello answered with great dignity. "Leo asked for it."

Raphael turned to Leonardo and raised an eye ridge. Leonardo shrugged surreptitiously.

It was Michelangelo who dared to say what they probably all thought.

"Is it normal that it's bigger than the TV screen?"

Donatello managed to glare at everybody at the same time. "Yes. I could have miniaturized it if I had been given a three days' notice, mind you, but that's the best I could do in three hours. I believe it will work fine."

"Dude, it has dozens of buttons. How do you even make it work?"

"It's not that hard, Mikey, when you know what you're doing."

"Which I almost never do." Michelangelo nodded emphatically.

Leonardo cleared his throat. "It's perfect, Donnie. Uh… Are you going to strap it to your back or something? So your arms and hands are free for fighting? Not that I wish it would happen, but it's a patrol. Fighting is a possibility."

Donatello shook his head. "No." Putting his detector down, he pushed a button on it. The detector began levitating under his siblings' impressed gazes. "It will carry itself."

"Awesome!" Michelangelo beamed.

"Thank you." In spite of the dire circumstances, Donatello felt warmed by his brother's obvious admiration.

"I don't know. It doesn't seem very stealthy, does it?" Raphael smirked.

Donatello took a deep breath. "The people of New York have just been abducted by aliens. Most of them are still having nightmares of Dimension X. I don't think that a screen, even flying, is going to surprise them right now, even if they should see it - which they probably won't, because it's black and won't emit any light until I told it to."

Leonardo tilted his head, acknowledging the fact that Donatello had thought about everything - or so said Donatello decided to interpret the gesture. "Alright, let's go. April and Casey will meet us outside."

Donatello's stomach tied into several knots. He had carefully managed to avoid thinking about April until then. Would she notice that something was wrong with him? He couldn't have that. He would have to do his best to impersonate a normal Donnie. Except that he wasn't normal around her, or so Michelangelo said. Except he wasn't normal at all, Raphael would have said. As if he wasn't a giant mutant turtle himself, which wasn't very normal. Besides…

"Donnie?"

Leonardo's quizzical voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Donatello realized that he was frozen in front of the turnstiles and glaring at them. With a cough, he relaxed his features and jumped them, his detector flying behind him.

Trying to slow the erratic beating of his heart.

* * *

April and Casey were indeed waiting for them topside. Donatello did his best to avoid avoiding April's look when she greeted him, asking how he was, while Casey was gaping at the detector floating at his side. He tried to focus his thoughts on anything but Irma's blackmail and his actions, filling his mind with calculations and estimations of the night's temperature and the buildings heights. He was relieved when Leonardo claimed their attention.

"Alright. I suggest we split up. Donnie, Mikey and April, you'll each try to locate Kraang portals, Kraang weapons, and every Kraangy-thing you can think of. Raph, Casey and I will back you up."

Donatello suddenly realized that he wasn't going to spend his evening with April after all. He didn't know if he was more relieved or disappointed. April had the ability to sense when somebody was hiding something, and she was partly Kraang. It was undoubtedly safer that he wasn't paired with her. On the other hand…

"I'll go with April," Casey said at once, grinning.

On the other hand, that. Alright. Disappointment it was, then. He narrowed his eyes at Casey as the human stuck his tongue out at him - having beforehand checked that April wasn't watching him, it went without saying.

"I'll go with Donnie," Raphael hurried to say, attracting himself an indignant yelp from Michelangelo.

"Then I'll go with Mikey," Leonardo finished. "Alright. Everybody has their T-Phones? Yes? Then call the others immediately if you need help. Or if you get into any trouble of any kind, even if you don't think you need help." He looked pointedly at Raphael.

"Don't worry, if anyone gets into trouble with Kraang tech tonight, it'll be Mikey," Raphael said, grinning. "And you'll have a front-row seat."

"You're just jealous because your intuition doesn't make the difference between a Kraang portal and a trash can," Michelangelo retorted, taking a careful step behind Leonardo before Raphael could smack his head.

Not that he was wrong to say so, if you asked Donatello.

"Good luck, guys," Leonardo cut them short. "See you later."

Donatello stole a melancholic glance at April as she left with Casey, and jerked when Raphael nudged him.

"Hey, next time, make your toys easier to use for us mere mortals, and Leo won't assume that you have to be the one handling them."

Donatello turned to him, embarrassed to have been caught with what was no doubt a kicked puppy expression on his face. "Oh, you mean I should trust you and Casey with precious state-of-the-art-and-more technology?"

"When am I not careful with delicate stuff?" Raphael's innocent look would have fooled a less sharp individual, but Donatello knew the sad truth.

"I'm not going to answer this."

* * *

Donatello didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't for his detector to immediately pick up a signal, however weak. He couldn't help feeling excited that it was working so well, considering how little time he had to make it.

He was so talented.

"This way," he exclaimed as he tuned the detector to focus on that particular signal.

"I hope it's not detecting knitting needles again." Raphael smirked.

Donatello glared at him. "It was a setting error." An error he had quickly fixed at the time, which hadn't prevented Raphael from teasing him for the rest of the patrol as he picked up the needles and pretended to poke him with them as if they were dangerous weapons. Well, they probably could be used as such, especially by a ninja. And now that he thought about it, he didn't remember Raphael getting rid of them afterwards.

It was worth a try.

"You never told me if they were easy to use," he said casually.

"What? No! I mean, how would I know that?" Raphael protested.

The modulation of his voice told Donatello that he was lying. Now that was useful knowledge. "If you insist, I can probably tune that marvel of technology to find you new ones…"

Raphael threw his arm around Donatello's neck and pushed down. Donatello slipped out of the loose armlock, smirking. Raphael huffed and rolled his eyes, apparently accepting that he had brought this upon himself by criticizing Donatello's skills in the first place.

"Not a word, or I'll have your shell," he threatened.

"Don't worry, Raph, your little secret is safe with me." Donatello patted his back, still smirking.

They both walked in silence for a while. Donatello was focusing on his detector, which helped him to remain calm and as relaxed as he could considering the circumstances. When they arrived at a large manhole cover, Donatello raised his eye ridges, checking the detector's data.

"Into the sewers?" Raphael tilted his head.

"I guess so," Donatello said as he lifted the manhole cover with his bō staff.

The tunnels were deserted and they progressed fast. The signal was growing stronger and they followed it through several intersections until they arrived at a crossroads of three tunnels which looked oddly familiar.

Donatello stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized the place. That was where he had met Irma four hours ago.

"What's the matter, Donnie?" Raphael asked, taking his sai in hand.

_The matter, my dear brother, is that my detector is working so well that it's leading us right to Irma. Which is a very, very bad idea right now._

"Oh no!" he exclaimed, his heart beating faster as he quickly tapped a sequence on the detector's keys. "It has lost the signal!"

Raphael shook his head. "Well, let's look for it, then."

"No! It's malfunctioning. It wasn't ready to use. Let's return to the surface," Donatello insisted.

Raphael looked at him in surprise. "I thought you said…"

"I must have been mistaken." Donatello shakily turned around.

"_You_ must have been mistaken?" Raphael's tone left no doubt as to how he was feeling about that statement coming from his brother's mouth.

Donatello hurried forwards, trying to keep his hands from shaking. And to think that he had done such a good job of acting normal until then.

* * *

The rest of the patrol went without a hitch. Donatello made sure that they stayed clear of the sewers, and drowned Raphael's suspicions under scientific small talk until they met the others back.

"Have you guys found anything?" Donatello quickly asked the others before Raphael could speak. "We thought we had a signal, but it was a false lead."

April shook her head. "No. In fact, right now I'm feeling closer to Kraang tech than I have this whole evening."

"It must be my detector. It has Kraang parts." Donatello swallowed hard. He truly hoped that it was the case, and that April couldn't feel the vial's drop in his body. _She couldn't, could she? It was only a drop._

"That must be it, then." April nodded, although she didn't look entirely convinced.

"And you?" Donatello asked Leonardo and Michelangelo, hoping to divert April's attention.

"We found the remnants of a portal, that Mikey teared off to make sure it would never be used again." Leonardo smiled at Michelangelo.

"That's right," Michelangelo answered proudly, at the same time allowing everybody to see that his mouth was full of food.

"Oh, gross!" Raphael exclaimed. "Wait, is that pizza?"

"There were three slices left in a pizza box. In a dumpster! Who leaves unfinished pizza in a dumpster?" Michelangelo replied indignantly before swallowing his food.

"You could have kept some for us."

"Dude, only three slices and two turtles. That's one turtle too many."

"Sorry, Raph. I almost didn't salvage a slice on the spot, there is no way I could have brought it back undamaged." Leonardo grinned.

"Oh really?" Raphael nudged him. "Then you better buy all of us pizza, or you're going to have a riot on your hands."

Casey nodded. "Pizza for everybody!"

"A mutinery?" Leonardo chuckled. "Alright. A leader has to make sacrifices sometimes. Pizza it is!"

Donatello watched his family's banter, his heart heavy. For once in his life, the perspective of pizza wasn't appealing to him. What if the food reacted with the Kraang's substance in his stomach? Of course, he would have to eat sooner or later, but he would rather have tried it in the relative safety of his lab, where he wasn't exposed to his brothers' and friends' prying eyes if anything happened.

"Hey, Donnie?"

Donatello realized that April was watching him and quickly turned to face her. She didn't look suspicious, which was good. "Yes?"

"I wanted to ask you something. There is this presentation I have to make about the Sun for my science class, and I thought that it would be more fun with you. Would you help me?"

She smiled, knowing what his answer would be. Her smile disappeared when Donatello didn't answer immediately.

"No, I mean yes! Yes, of course, it would be great! I'm looking forward to it!" Donatello fidgeted, on the verge of panic.

And he was, truly. Almost as much as he was scared that he would be found out. He would have to tread carefully - to check and double-check his lab, to make sure he had enough Kraang devices on display to distract her mind. He would need to draw a chart to make sure he had thought about everything, and prepare several explanations for each possible event. Maybe her mere presence would inspire him in solving his current predicament - it had happened more than once.

"It's always a pleasure to help you."


	4. Enter Splinter

Donatello woke up with a start, his stomach rumbling. He barely had the time to run to the bathroom to empty its content.

As he bent over the toilet seat, he wondered if it was an after-effect of the Kraang substance he had swallowed the day before. Had his body finally reacted?

It was unlikely to be anything else. He hadn't even eaten as much pizza as he usually did, not to mention that he had never felt ill because of pizza before. It wasn't a mere indigestion.

Maybe it was a chemical reaction between the substance and pizza. He would have to check it later. Would he have to stop eating pizza while he was taking the substance? It was going to be hard without arousing his brothers' suspicions.

Donatello wiped his mouth with toilet paper and flushed the toilet, thinking that he could now add 'delayed effect' to his next report to Irma. He got back on his feet only to feel his head spin, and fell on his knees again, pressing his palms against his eyelids in an attempt to ease the dizziness.

He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths. How long would he be able to keep up the charade if a single drop got him on his knees? He would have to find a solution really fast, before his body sustained permanent damage. Surely he had at least a few days, right? More likely weeks, or even months, if he considered how many drops the vial was holding. Except that Irma might very well have taken into account the fact that he would try to experiment with some of it, and maybe she had no idea at all how it would affect his body and had just guessed large, or maybe…

Yeah. If he was honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing.

He retched again, but his stomach was empty - nothing more to expel.

"Donatello?"

Donatello froze at the soft call. It wasn't the voice of one of his brothers - that would have been embarrassing enough.

No, it was his father calling him.

"I'm here," he answered weakly.

Master Splinter came inside the bathroom and knelt at Donatello's side, resting his hand against his son's forehead.

"My son, how are you feeling?"

Donatello felt like crying at hearing his father's soft voice. For a second, he wanted nothing more than to tell him everything. Splinter would know what to do - maybe he would be able to detect which one of his sons was a ticking bomb, and to save him, without Irma noticing, and… and…

Right, and pigs could fly. Donatello bit his lip, thinking desperately about an answer that wouldn't betray him. He opted for another truth.

"I've a headache, which was probably induced by the violence of emptying my stomach in spasms, and my throat is irritated because of the acidity of the fluid my body just got rid of."

Splinter stroked his beard, unfazed by the colorful description.

"Come with me. I'll give you something to help your body recover."

Donatello grimaced. Splinter had an impressive collection of medicinal teas, and the one which helped with indigestion tasted especially terrible.

"Hai, Sensei."

He stood up and allowed his father to support him as they made their way to the kitchen, if only to rest his head against his chest. Splinter made him sit while he boiled water, and Donatello watched him, taking comfort in the familiar gestures.

"There, drink this."

Donatello took the mug from his father's hands and sipped its content with caution, half-expecting his stomach to refuse the beverage. He was relieved to observe that even if the tea tasted worse than he remembered, he was able to drink it.

Splinter sat next to him and waited until he had emptied the mug.

"Do you know what made you sick?"

"Indigestion, I assume." Donatello averted his father's eye. "Maybe something on my pizza's topping."

"None of your brothers has been affected," Splinter mused.

Donatello bit his lip. "I might also have eaten too much," he added, hoping to redirect his father's train of thought. "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me for being sick, my son." Splinter stroked his cheek. "Are you sure there is nothing else you want to tell me?"

Donatello shook his head, not trusting his voice to answer.

"Very well. Then I suggest that you go back to bed and try to rest. I'll be there if you need anything."

"Thank you, Father," Donatello whispered in a small voice, not knowing whether he was more ashamed or weary.

* * *

The next morning, Donatello struggled to get out of bed. His head felt heavy, probably from lack of sleep - _please, let it be lack of_ _sleep_ \- and he was disheartened. Granted, he hadn't been sick again, but he would have to take another drop today, and it was likely to make matters worse.

With a groan, he got out of bed and went to the kitchen. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo were already taking their breakfast.

"Hi, Dee," Michelangelo greeted him. "Feeling better?"

Donatello blushed. If his brothers' concerned looks were any indication, they were all well aware of the night's events.

"You heard me?"

"It would have been hard not to." Raphael took another mouthful of cereals. "But thanks for leaving the bathroom in a decent state. The same cannot be said of everyone else here." He looked pointedly at Michelangelo, who stuck his tongue out at him.

"Did Splinter give you some of his tea?" Leonardo shifted to make place for Donatello.

"Yes." Donatello grimaced at the thought. "It was efficient."

"That thing tastes like the dirt between Raph's toes." Michelangelo shivered.

Donatello tilted his head. "And how would you know what the dirt between Raph's toes tastes like?" he asked rhetorically. As Michelangelo grinned sheepishly, though, he realized that it hadn't been a figure of speech after all. "Ugh! Why would you even do that?"

"He promised to lend me his magazines if I did," Michelangelo answered as if it was the most sensible thing in the world.

Raphael withered a little under the combined glares of Donatello and Leonardo. "Hey, I didn't think he was seriously going to do it."

"It's Mikey. Of course he was going to do it." Donatello shook his head and filled his bowl with cereals.

"Enjoy your breakfast, everyone. If you're still able to." Leonardo sighed.

Donatello took a tentative spoon of cereals and chewed it slowly before swallowing. He hoped that his body wasn't going to reject it.

His three brothers were watching him with intense eyes, and Donatello lifted a finger. "Uh, guys? Not helping."

"Sorry." Leonardo coughed. "What do you think happened to you? Was it a virus?"

His voice was more than a little concerned, and Donatello could see why. The four of them rarely fell ill, but when one of them caught a bug, it was only a matter of time before the others did, too.

"No, I think it was indigestion."

"Dude, how dare you accuse the pizza!" Michelangelo glared at him. "You didn't even eat that much!"

Donatello glared at him. "Not everybody is a bottomless pit like you, Mikey."

He felt a little guilty as Leonardo and Raphael chuckled at the retort. It wasn't like it was wrong - Michelangelo _was _a bottomless pit as far as food was concerned.

And he needed them to believe that Michelangelo's remark was unfounded.

* * *

Right after breakfast, Donatello decided to tackle the problem of the cameras and microphones that Irma might have left inside the lair. With his new Kraang Tech Detector, it was easy for him to discover them - there were six cameras, including one in the kitchen, two in the living room and one in the dojo. The two others were in his lab and in his room, and he removed them easily. He noted that, like yesterday, the detector never pointed at one of his brothers. Maybe the bomb wasn't made of Kraang technology, or maybe it was too tiny to be detected.

Removing the cameras in the living room was easy - admittedly, Leonardo was there, but he was watching his favorite show and paid no attention to him. Besides, it was nothing out of the ordinary - being in charge of repairs had its advantages.

Splinter was meditating in the dojo, so removing the camera there was out of the question. He would have to wait until his father was finished.

That left the kitchen. Michelangelo was inside, petting Ice Cream Kitty while he munched at leftovers - as if he hadn't just eaten his breakfast - and Donatello wondered if he should wait to avoid his questions. He really wanted to be done, though, and decided to proceed.

Unsurprisingly, Michelangelo raised his head when Donatello climbed on the furniture to reach the ceiling.

"Uh, Donnie? What are you doing?"

Donatello had his answer ready.

"We need a smoke detector," he explained. "In case a fire starts in the kitchen."

He would remove the inside of the camera and leave its structure until he had time to replace it with a true smoke detector. He was a little disturbed that the lie was coming so easy to him, but the cause was noble.

"Do you want help?"

"No!" Donatello noticed Michelangelo's crestfallen expression, and immediately felt guilty. "I mean, no, thanks, Mikey."

Michelangelo still looked disappointed, and Donatello felt compelled to give him something to do.

"Actually, you can hand me this screwdriver, here."

Michelangelo obliged. "I love to help you, Donnie." He smiled. "I love to be there for you. If there is anything else I can do…"

Donatello bit his lip. He really hoped that he was imagining the subtext in Michelangelo's words.

"I know, Mikey. Thank you."

* * *

The second part of his morning was dedicated to investigating the Kraang substance. Splinter had dispensed him of morning training, and he had all the peace he could have wished.

He began by writing a detailed report about his nocturnal sick episode, not leaving behind any detail about the color or consistency of his stomach's content. He knew that Irma was unlikely to be disgusted by it - she was an alien after all - but she had spent a lot of time amongst humans, so maybe she would be. It was worth a try.

Then he took some of the alien substance and dropped it on a slice of pizza he had ordered behind Michelangelo's back, taking note of the gas that was emitted. He even retrieved some of Splinter's medicinal tea and added a drop inside too - once again, it emitted some gas. Finally, he made a mix of pizza, tea and a third drop - this time, nothing happened. As far as he could tell, the chemical reaction had been prevented.

_This is my best chance, _he thought glumly, and half-drank, half-ate the mixture he had concocted. It hadn't been 24 hours since he had last taken a drop of the vial, but he didn't want to wait. He needed to be in top shape for April's arrival. He didn't forget to clean his lab thoroughly until every trace of his activities had disappeared.

He had just finished typing his report for Irma when he was brutally interrupted by Casey Jones, of all people.

"Hey, Donnie! Where do you want your satellite dish?"

Donatello closed his laptop so fast that the screen slammed against the keyboard. He had completely forgotten that Casey had offered to save the satellite dish for him. "Casey! What are you doing here?"

Casey put the item on the floor and crossed his arms. "Isn't it obvious? Come on, Donnie, you're supposed to be the brains of the team."

Donatello massaged his temples. "I mean, what are you doing here, _now? _It's morning practice."

"Raph told me that you were excused from training today."

"Right. Then, put it there in the corner, please."

Casey did as he was instructed. Then he stood in the middle of the lab, swinging back and forth. "So, uh. You're seeing April today?"

Donatello crossed his arms. "And I fail to see how it's your business."

Casey raised his hand in a gesture of peace. "You're right, it's not." After a short and awkward silence, he went on. "What are you working on?"

Donatello gritted his teeth. Why, why did Casey want to chat especially today?

"I'm working on chemicals," he answered. Casey enjoyed mechanics better, so he was unlikely to offer his help.

And he wasn't disappointed. A few minutes later, Casey excused himself and left him in peace.

* * *

April came after lunch. Donatello was ready to welcome her under the best possible conditions. He had an excuse ready for thirty-three questions about the state of his lab - whether April found it too clean, or too messy, or if she wanted to talk about his current experiments - then he would talk about the Kraang Tech Detector - and of course, he had refreshed his knowledge on the Sun. April was going to make the best presentation on the subject ever.

The tutoring session went perfectly well. He managed to keep the conversation going about April's presentation exclusively, and April showed the greatest interest in everything Donatello said. She was especially surprised to learn that the Sun's activity was closely monitored from Earth.

"Space weather?" she said, leaning forward to better see the website Donatello was browsing.

"Yes. The Sun's activity can have important repercussions on Earth." Donatello excitedly pointed at a picture of the Sun ejecting coronal mass. "You see this? Solar winds like that reach the Earth at high speed and cause a magnetic storm. A storm that can disrupt electric power distribution, and…"

April listened intently as Donatello went on and on about the effects of magnetic storms, then switched to the birth and death of stars. At the end, she put her hand on his arm.

"Thank you, Donnie. Your help is invaluable."

Donatello coughed, suddenly at a loss for words.

"It's a… a pleasure. April. To help you. To help you is a pleasure, April." He tried hard not to bang his head against his desk. Where was his eloquence when he needed it the most?

April smiled. "And I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Me too." Donatello nodded. Then realization struck him. "Wait a minute. How do you know I wasn't feeling good?"

April patted his arm soothingly. "Mikey said something when I came into the lair. He was concerned about you, I think."

Donatello raised a hand.

"Excuse me for a minute."

He stood up and left the lab, smiling at his guest all the way. As soon as he was in the living room, he stomped right to the couch, where an unsuspecting Michelangelo was reading a comic.

"Mikey?"

Michelangelo raised his head. "Yes, Dee?"

"Mikey, did you tell _April_ that I had been _sick_?"

Michelangelo watched him warily. "Yes? Dude, what's the matter? I just wanted her to take extra care of you."

Donatello hid his face in his hands. "Mikey, I appreciate the intention, but I would have preferred you to shut up."

"Why?"

"Because," Donatello answered, his cheeks burning, "it is _not_ attractive. At all."

"Donnie, you're worrying too much. It's April. She doesn't care about stuff like that."

"But I do." Donatello leaned forward to better glare at his brother. "So, next time. You shut up."

"Got it, Dee." Michelangelo smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Donatello nodded and came back to his lab, a model of offended dignity.

* * *

Later that day, Donatello decided to tinker with the cameras he had found. Maybe he could find a way to trace them back to Irma. That would be useful information for later. And maybe it would give him a hint about how Irma was communicating with the bomb inside his brother's body, so he could break the connection and remove said bomb.

He didn't find any, but he did manage to trigger the last camera, the one which was in the dojo. He hadn't had the opportunity to remove it yet.

Donatello watched the image come out on his laptop with great curiosity. In the dojo, April was bowing to Splinter. It must be the end of her lesson. Leonardo was sitting cross-legged next to the wall, which was nothing out of the ordinary. However, both Raphael and Michelangelo were there too, which was way more unusual. If it was a special occasion, why didn't they call him?

Frowning, he tuned the sound until he could hear what was being said.

"Was Donatello able to help you?" Splinter was asking politely.

April nodded. "Yes."

Donatello smiled.

"But…"

He frowned. But what? What had he done wrong? Had he forgotten an important topic? Maybe he should have been more precise about the nuclear reactions happening within the Sun, and…

"… I feel like something is troubling him."

Donatello froze, barely daring to breathe.

"Hmm." Splinter crossed his arms behind his back and turned to Donatello's brothers. "What do you think?"

"He was strange yesterday," Raphael answered immediately. "We were following a lead, and all of a sudden he turned back. He was scared. And Casey says he was dismissive when he visited him today."

Donatello gritted his teeth. Had Raphael _asked_ Casey Jones to watch him?

"And I don't know what it was, but it wasn't pizza that made him sick," Michelangelo added. "The pizza was super clean, and he barely ate any!"

"He was strange today too." Leonardo looked concerned. "He was tinkering with something on the living room's ceiling, and he was very careful not to make any sound. I mean, way more than normal."

Donatello swore inwardly. Leonardo hadn't been as oblivious to his presence as he had thought, then.

"He was tinkering with something in the kitchen too," Michelangelo added. "And it wasn't a smoke detector like he said."

"Because you know what a smoke detector looks like?" Raphael sounded doubtful at best.

"Of course, dude! I've been thinking about buying one. Ice Cream Kitty lives in the kitchen, and she's super sensitive to heat!"

Donatello closed his eyes and sank deeper in his chair. It seemed that he really had done a poor job of not arousing his family's suspicions. And for them to talk to Splinter so openly about him behind his back - they must be more than a little worried.

"So what do we do, Sensei?" Leonardo asked. "He didn't tell us anything, and he dismissed our attempts at talking."

"Let your brother come to us," Splinter advised. "Let him share his burden in his own time and place."

"Hai, Sensei," his brothers and April replied.

Even from the images of the camera, Donatello could tell that they were anything but convinced. This time, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the vial's drop he had swallowed in the morning.

It only became stronger when he realized that he might not have been the only witness of that scene.

_I really hope Irma didn't watch this._


	5. On Eggshells

Donatello didn't dare to leave his lab for the next hour. He couldn't bring himself to face his family. He was certain that his face would betray that he had heard them talk about him. In a way, he felt moved that they paid such close attention to him and his well-being, but they were only making matters worse.

It was obvious now that he had to give them some sort of explanation in order to rule out their suspicion. What could he possibly come up with? And he would have to remove the camera, of course. Just thinking about Irma watching - and maybe recording, and maybe watching again - the scene he had just witnessed made his blood boil in his veins.

The sound of a new email in his inbox claimed his attention. He checked it, his heart beating faster in his chest, and clenched his fists when he saw who the sender was. With a sour taste in his mouth, he opened it.

_Don't remove the last camera._

Donatello took a deep, shaky breath. So much for this strategy, then. He wondered briefly if Irma was also studying them the same way she had studied humans for so long.

As he calmed himself by making sure for the umpteenth time that everything concerning the vial - his notes, his material, and the vial itself - was safely hidden from prying eyes, he wondered how he was going to keep the charade. He hated to lie to his family. Their trust was precious to him, and he already felt bad knowing that he was hiding something essential to them.

_Guys, I'm so sorry. I have no other choice._

He finally settled for a half-lie, half-truth that he believed could be convincing enough to appease his brothers, and gathered his courage. He had half-expected somebody - Michelangelo, for example - to come into his lab for a chat, but no one did. They must have taken Splinter's advice to heart.

It was time to leave his stronghold.

* * *

When Donatello set a cautious foot in the living room, April had long come home. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo were all relaxing - Leonardo was reading a comic, Michelangelo was channel-hopping, and if he believed the sweat on Raphael's arms, his brother had been in the process of beating his punching-ball for a while.

They all turned to him as soon as they felt his presence, though, and Donatello almost winced. Had they been waiting for him?

"Hey guys," he began.

Their answers - various intonations of "Hey Donnie! Glad to see you, bro! What are you up to?" - sounded a little too cheerful. Donatello took a deep breath and ignored the awkwardness to set his plan into motion.

"Maybe you've noticed that I was a little stressed yesterday."

"Yes, we have!" Michelangelo's hopeful smile was almost unbearable to watch.

"Oh, no, not at all," Leonardo and Raphael both answered at the same time.

Donatello rolled his eyes. Did they seriously expect him to believe that? But then, he did expect _them _to believe what he was going to say.

He put his hands behind his back so his brothers wouldn't notice their shaking. _Breathe. It'll work. It's 100% plausible and they have no reason not to believe me. I never lie to them._

"Anyways, I feel a little tired since yesterday. It is possible that I've been overworking myself with the counter-attack against the Kraang and the repairs of our lair. That must have depleted my immune system, and would explain why I got sick."

He hoped that none of them would realize the symptoms for stress didn't normally involve vomiting. However, he was the only one who had actually studied medicine textbooks, and he had managed to keep his teacher's voice the whole time.

_Please, guys. Buy it._

"I knew it wasn't the pizza," Michelangelo whispered, attracting himself a nudge from Raphael.

Donatello bowed his head in shame - a feeling that wasn't faked.

"I've always said that science wasn't a healthy activity." Raphael crossed his arms.

Donatello raised his head with lightning speed to glare at his brother - another feeling that wasn't faked. Maybe he wasn't a complete and utter liar yet.

"Science is a very healthy activity, and one you definitely should practice more. I might have just abused it in the few past days." He faked an annoyed huff. "The point is, I'm going to take it easier. I'm sorry if I've been worrying you." There. Would they take the bait?

"It's okay, Dee, we understand. We just saved the world, after all, and not everybody can have a strong constitution like me." Michelangelo hugged him, and Donatello relaxed a little.

"Thanks for being open with us, Donnie." Leonardo smiled at him.

Donatello nodded, his eyes set on the top of Michelangelo's head. He couldn't bring himself to look at his brother. He knew Leonardo was an acute observer, but he also knew that he had a strong tendency to trust those he loved.

A category he absolutely belonged to.

"It's good to know you still have some self-preservation left," Raphael added, grinning, and Donatello's stomach knotted in guilt.

They had bought it, out of their love and trust for him. He wanted to dig a deep hole and bury himself inside.

"Hey, Donnie," Michelangelo said with excitation, "you're not going to believe this, but we were just thinking that we all needed to relax! We're going skateboarding tonight, and we could even go through the junkyard! What do you say?"

Donatello looked at Leonardo. "No patrol?"

His brother shook his head. "No, not tonight. We can take a night off from time to time, right?"

It was a nice gesture, and Donatello did appreciate it. On the other hand, he knew that he would never be able to enjoy the night like his brothers expected him to - not with the burden he had on his shoulders.

But he wasn't going to spoil their fun, or make them suspicious again.

"That's a great idea!" he said, a perfect picture of enthusiasm.

He plastered a smile on his face as his brothers grinned at him.

_I'm the worst brother ever._

* * *

The evening went great, and Donatello would have loved it in any other situation. They didn't encounter any foes, they played on the rooftops, and everyone agreed to carry the multiple items Donatello found at the junkyard.

The whole time, Donatello was busy planning his future experiments and strategizing his next moves. He thought he felt suspicious looks in his back once or twice, but maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

He quickly realized that he had been honest in one more thing than he had thought, though. He was, indeed, tired.

Really tired. So much, in fact, that they came home earlier because he couldn't stop yawning. Donatello hoped that it would give his story more weight, although he was afraid that it could be another side effect of the Kraang substance.

At least he hadn't been sick again.

* * *

Days passed. Donatello was doing his best to behave normally, but he was feeling more and more tired.

He was still drinking Splinter's tea, which he was now certain helped him to keep food in his stomach, but he had done almost no progress on understanding what the substance was and what it did, and it was driving him crazy.

Training sessions became especially difficult. He couldn't focus on the exercises, and his reflexes were becoming slower to the point it was beginning to show. It didn't help that he was always aware of the camera in the dojo, and of the alien that might be watching them.

One day, he came very close to explode and tell his brothers everything. They were training by themselves in the dojo - Splinter had gone in the sewers for a solitary walk, like he sometimes felt the need to - and he was fighting Raphael.

A Raphael that looked especially annoyed.

"Come on, Donnie, you're not even trying!"

Donatello, who had been picking himself up to face his brother again, stopped. Not trying? He was trying alright, trying his very best to protect his family and find answers that escaped him, because as much as he was a genius the Kraang had a head start on him, a thousands-of-years-old head start actually, and it was really, really hard to catch up when his head felt so heavy with exhaustion and worry that he could barely even think, and it was all he could do the keep his mouth shut and not yell at them that it was too much, and he needed help, please, _I'm in too deep, I can't do it, _and that camera that was still filming them, filming him, and he couldn't say a word or everything would be over, and -

"Can't you take fighting seriously for once?" Raphael threw his arms up, and it was too much for Donatello.

"I'll be in my lab," he snapped, storming out of the room before he broke down and ruined everything.

He wasn't fast enough to avoid hearing Michelangelo's whisper, though - it was as if his brother made a point of honor to be heard at all times.

"He's not getting better, is he?"

* * *

It was, once again, April who gave him new hope.

That evening, she came to the lair to spend quality time with him - with _him_, and him alone, because _she_ enjoyed his company - and they had discussed her presentation. Her teacher had been delighted, and she had earned the highest grade.

"It's thanks to you, Donnie!" She grinned at him.

"Congratulations, April!" He smiled weakly. "I knew you would do it."

"She especially liked that I mentioned space weather." April shook her head in disbelief. "And the best part is, I could show them the Space Weather website and it's announcing a magnetic storm in a couple of days! They don't know yet how powerful it will be, but…"

"A magnetic storm? In New York?" Donatello's voice creaked. He ran to his laptop to check - and indeed, there was. The forecast had even been updated, saying that there was a very real possibility that the magnetic storm would disturb human activities, involving GPS and communication networks.

His mind raced.

48 hours. In 48 hours, he would have a window to fix things. During the magnetic storm, communications would be unavailable - which meant that Irma wouldn't be able to trigger the bomb. It would give him the possibility to find which one of his brothers was implied, and to save him.

It was a wild guess, but it was the only plan he had.

"April, you're the best!" He grabbed her arms and spun her around the room, laughing genuinely like he hadn't in days.

That night, he noticed the white spots on his skin for the first time.


	6. Trial and Error

It was an understatement to say that Donatello didn't sleep well that night. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that the magnetic storm was his last chance. He had kept taking drop after drop of Irma's mixture, and it was obvious that his body was paying the price. He had no idea how long it would tolerate the abuse.

Irma hadn't protested when he had mentioned the tea he was drinking with the drops. Had she known that it wouldn't change anything? Maybe she had a scientific team at her disposal? Surely a Kraang Subprime had resources, no matter how defeated he was.

Donatello had carefully assessed the damage. As far as he could tell, the white spots were only present on his arms. He had spent one hour creating makeup the exact color of his green skin, and making sure that it would hide the spots from anything but a very close inspection.

He had only two days to go. No big deal. He could do it.

The next morning, Donatello briefly wondered if he could find a way to stay hidden from his family. He was trying to be optimistic, but he couldn't deny the obvious: he looked terrible.

He felt a little better after applying his homemade makeup. Not only did it hide the white spots on his arms perfectly, but it also concealed the dark rings under his eyes.

Raphael was extra nice with him during breakfast. Donatello didn't need to be a genius to guess that his brother was feeling guilty. He would have let him macerate in his guilt for a while longer, but his heart wasn't in revenge and he gracefully accepted Raphael's silent apology.

He then undertook to prepare everything he would need for the day of the magnetic storm. He would have to remove the bomb from his brother's body. Thanks to the evidence Irma had showed him to convince him that she was telling the truth, he had a vague idea of the way the bomb had been implanted. It was unlikely to be very deep, but he would have to cut the skin and part of the muscle. Did they have enough compresses?

He tried not to think about the fact that he was going to perform surgery on one of his brothers. Maybe he should ask Splinter to do it instead? Their father's long fingers would give him more precision. But of course, he couldn't tell Splinter before the fateful day, and who knew how things would turn out? It was better to prepare for anything.

His preparations were interrupted by Michelangelo, who wandered inside the lab in the obvious hope of getting Donatello to open up. Donatello did his best to hide his anxiety. Knowing that a solution was in sight gave him a new energy, but it also made him jumpy. He couldn't afford to be discovered now.

He hoped that Michelangelo wasn't going to push him, and was relieved when his brother didn't. He did, however, rummage through Donatello's things while he had his back to him, and found the scalpels that Donatello had put aside.

"Hey, Donnie, what's that for?" Michelangelo sounded more curious than concerned. "Do you intend to dissect somebody?" He grinned as if it was a hilarious joke.

Donatello almost choked, and he let out a loud mental laugh that was only half-faked. Luckily for him, Michelangelo seemed to believe that he was playing along. He pretended to be scared, which gave him the opportunity to jump on Donatello's shell and hug him tight.

Donatello restrained himself from telling Michelangelo that hiding from him by clinging on to him wasn't exactly the best of moves, and kept laughing like a maniac, relieving some of his stress in the process.

It went well until he dissolved into a coughing fit.

Michelangelo jumped from his shell and put his hands on his shoulders. "Donnie? Donnie, are you alright?"

"It went down the wrong way," Donatello pretended as soon as he caught his breath. He felt dizzy, and collapsed in his chair. "I guess I'm not made to be a mad doctor," he added, his tone deliberately grandiloquent.

Reassured, Michelangelo smiled. "You would make a great doctor, Dee. I would trust you with surgery any time!"

"Thank you, Mikey."

Donatello tried not to think that maybe Michelangelo would have to, and sooner than later.

* * *

Donatello had hoped that they wouldn't go out tonight, or only for a short patrol, but of course it couldn't be that easy.

"Casey has heard rumors of Purple Dragons plundering houses," Leonardo said, his expression focused. "Some citizens are still missing."

Donatello nodded. Not everyone had made it out of Dimension X with their memories intact, and the hospitals and clinics were full of amnesiacs who didn't remember where they lived. The police was too busy right now to keep an eye on thieves, and the deserted houses were an easy prey.

The four of them were gathered into the living room, with Raphael and Michelangelo already exchanging excited glances. Leonardo was watching him. Was Donatello's mind playing tricks on him, or did his brother suspect something?

"Do you think you're up to it?"

"What do you mean?" Donatello retorted, a lump in his throat. "Of course I'm up to it. Are we going to meet Casey there?" he asked to draw Leonardo's attention away.

Raphael shook his head. "He has to look after his little sister. It's not going to be much of a fight anyways." He smirked. "That's the Purple Dragons we're talking about. Mikey could take them down in his sleep."

Michelangelo nodded gracefully. "Thanks, Raph." He then narrowed his eyes, trying to decide whether or not there was an insult behind the compliment. Raphael's self-satisfied expression was highly suspicious.

Leonardo went on before Michelangelo could make up his mind.

"Very well, then. It's not far from Central Park. Let's go."

* * *

They arrived just in time to see the Purple Dragons disappearing inside a small warehouse, their arms full of bags. Leonardo made them go around the building to scout the area. There was another entrance on the other side.

"Okay," Leonardo whispered, "here is the plan. Raph and Mikey, you're taking this entrance. Donnie and I will take the first one, so the Purple Dragons can't escape. Wait five minutes before you come in, so Donnie has time to deactivate any potential alarm. Once inside, if the Purple Dragons are alone, we corner them and tie them up for the police. If not, we meet again. No rash decisions."

He met Raphael's gaze and held it for a little longer than strictly necessary to convey his point. Donatello had a hunch that more than a caution warning was passing between the two of them, which was confirmed when Raphael nodded without protest. Soon, he was leaving with Michelangelo in his wake.

Donatello frowned as he followed Leonardo on the other side of the warehouse. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off with Leonardo's plan. It wasn't until they arrived at the first entrance and Leonardo began playing with the lock while he checked the building for alarms - there was one, and deactivating it was child's play for him - that he realized what it was.

Both he and Leonardo were the most talented with unlocking doors in a silent way. Just imagining Raphael kicking the door down on the other side made him wince. It made no sense that the leader would pair them together for that particular mission. Unless… Unless he wanted to keep an eye on him.

This couldn't be good.

Biting his lip, Donatello followed his brother inside. Now that he thought of it, it made perfect sense. Leonardo took his role as leader very seriously and if he had any reason to suspect that a member of his team wasn't at his best, he would make sure to be able to intervene quickly.

Which meant that Leonardo thought that Donatello wasn't at his best. He probably didn't know how much, though, or he wouldn't have agreed with Donatello's involvement in the first place.

Donatello tried to convince himself that he wasn't being reckless. He felt tired, sure, and sometimes his head ached... But if he had told his brothers that he would rather stay home, they would have wanted to know why, and he didn't want to give them any reason to think he wasn't feeling well.

Or Splinter would want to examine him, and his trick with the green makeup wouldn't withstand his father's keen eye.

As soon as they entered the warehouse, Leonardo pointed at the beams near the ceiling. Donatello nodded, understanding that they would watch their surroundings from above.

They had barely walked ten feet on the beams when the same dizziness that he had felt in his lab earlier came upon him again, and for the briefest of seconds he lost track of where he was…

He slipped.

"Donnie!" Leonardo shouted.

"I'm there!" Donatello had managed to grasp a bunch of ropes with his left arm and was hanging from them. The ropes were fastened to the beam and he didn't risk falling. However, he was now entangled in them. He was going to need help to get free.

It was just his luck.

Leonardo leaned forward and extended his arm, ready to grab his brother's right wrist to pull him to safety. It was a move that they had practiced hundreds of times before, nothing that Donatello would have been concerned about under normal circumstances.

Except that the circumstances were anything but normal. His wrist was covered in green makeup. Donatello had made it water resistant so it wouldn't be wiped by sweat, but it could be rubbed away if Leonardo grabbed him.

"What's the matter, Donnie?" Leonardo's voice was strained. He expected Donatello to reach over, and when Donatello didn't, he could only think that his brother was injured.

"I…" Donatello closed his eyes, on the verge of tears. So close. He had been so close.

"Are you hurting? Can you give me your arm?"

Donatello wanted to answer that he was alright, but even if he hadn't injured himself in his fall, it was a lie too big to go past his lips. Without a word, he reached out and allowed Leonardo to pull him on the beam.

"I'm not injured," he whispered, and he was grateful for the lack of light.

Leonardo nodded and motioned for him to go forward. Donatello could feel his brother's gaze on his back, and knew that he was ready to catch him, should he loose his balance again.

To Donatello's utter relief, it didn't happen. They soon reached the other side of the large room, then its floor. They entered the next room, which was also empty.

Leonardo tapped his cheek with his fingers, thinking. "Where do you think they w- what's that?"

Donatello realized with horror that his brother was watching his hand in disbelief. He hid his own hands behind his back, as if it could delay the inevitable.

"Is that makeup?"

Donatello froze, unable to think of anything to do or say. He could almost see the wheels turning in Leonardo's brain, until his brother turned to him and grabbed his wrists, having realized where and when he could have gotten green makeup on his fingers.

That room was better lit than the previous one, and Donatello had no doubt that Leonardo could see the white spots on his skin as well as he did.

"Leo, I…"

"Donnie!" Leonardo's voice was a mere whisper. "What happened to you?"

Donatello had to grant it to his brother: he didn't lose his cool easily. Even though he had no doubt that Leonardo was freaking out inside, he was still keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings and not shouting at him like he certainly wanted to.

"Leo, please," Donatello begged. "I can't tell you anything."

Leonardo's eyes widened with incredulity, right before they narrowed to slits. "Why not? Donnie, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Donatello pulled his arms out of Leonardo's grasp.

"I can't," he whispered desperately, knowing perfectly well that Leonardo wouldn't be satisfied with this answer.

The sudden arrival of Michelangelo and Raphael gave him a brief respite.

"Hey, guys!" Raphael exclaimed. "You're too late, we've already found the Purple Dragons and…" He stopped when he saw Leonardo's expression. "What happened?"

"We're going home," Leonardo said through gritted teeth. "Now."

"Dude, you look like a ghost," Michelangelo told Donatello, not so subtly hinting at his probable paleness. "A green ghost… who would have sprayed white paint on himself. Uh. Why would you do that?"

"It's not paint, Mikey." Leonardo's voice was deadly calm.

"What?" Raphael frowned and came closer. He gasped when he realized what Leonardo was talking about. "What the shell, Donnie?"

"It's not paint?" Michelangelo put his hands on his mouth. "Is it shellacne, then?"

"It doesn't look like shellacne to me," Raphael observed. "Donnie?"

The slight note of panic in his voice sent a shiver down Donatello's spine. "Guys. It's nothing, you don't need to worry, I…" He shut up, realizing that he was rambling.

And tried desperately not to panic himself.

"Let's go," Leonardo instructed. "I'm sure Splinter will want to hear your story too."

So much for not panicking.

"What? Leo, you can't tell him!"

"_I _won't be telling him anything. I don't _know_ anything, remember?"

Donatello bowed his head in shame, unable to look his brother in the eye.

"Donnie." Leonardo's voice was softer now. "I don't know what's happening, but we'll figure this out, okay? Together."

Donatello nodded without a word. He tried to process this new development while Leonardo was leading them out of the warehouse and into the night. This was worse than he had thought. He wouldn't be able to stand in front of his whole family and not tell them everything he knew. Maybe he should try to give them the slip while he still could.

"Don't even think about it." Raphael's calm voice crushed that last hope. His brother was running closer to him than normal.

Donatello had no doubt that he would jump on him if he had to. Besides, Michelangelo was running on his other side, and he was faster than Donatello. And even though Leonardo was ahead, Donatello was certain that his focus was on him, too.

It wouldn't have worked anyways. He had to send his reports to Irma. And what if they discussed his situation in the dojo, where she could spy on them? He couldn't have that.

As he began coughing again, attracting himself concerned looks from his brothers, he couldn't help thinking about how close he had been to follow through with his plan.

One day. It was all he needed. Had it been too much to ask for?


	7. Cornered

The return to the lair was excruciating. Donatello could feel the weight of his brothers' concern on his shell, as much as their hurt for being left in the dark.

He kept his mind busy by thinking of lines of defense, ordering the sentences in his head until it could fool them - a little more time, just a little more time, that was all he needed - but everything he could think of didn't withstand close examination. What if he lost their truth for good by lying to them again? He knew what they would do. They would search high and low for an explanation to his behavior, and he had no doubt that a single day was more than enough for them to attract Irma's attention.

Which meant that he would have to tell them the truth. That was another problem entirely. How would they react? Would he manage to convince them to keep a low profile? They had to believe him. They had to trust his precarious plan. They had to, or the consequences would be too dire to be put in conscious thoughts.

It wasn't until they were almost home that he made a last attempt at escaping his fate.

"Guys, tomorrow I'll tell you everything. Please. Don't ask me anything tonight."

His mere whisper was enough to get his brothers' immediate attention. Their incredulous looks didn't bode well.

"Donnie, you have white spots on your skin. Last time I checked, it didn't belong to the panoply of the healthy good old mutant turtle." Raphael crossed his arms. "And I would even say," he added, his voice dripping with a sarcasm meant to cover his concern, "that you're perfectly aware of it. Or you wouldn't have tried to hide it with makeup."

Donatello bowed his head. It had been a desperate move that he didn't regret, even if it had failed miserably.

"I thought it was well done," Michelangelo interfered, as soothing as ever. "Except that, you know, you shouldn't have done it."

"Thank you, Mikey," Donatello muttered.

"I mean, that wasn't very clever," Michelangelo expanded. "What if you need medical attention? You're sick, and it looks really awful." His eyes widened. "Is it lethal and highly contagious?"

"No!" Donatello took a sharp breath that almost ended in another coughing fit. To be honest, he wasn't sure about the lethal part, but he was certain that it wasn't contagious. This was no epidemic - this was poisoning. Self-poisoning, to be precise. "You won't catch white spots on your skin, Mikey, I promise."

Mikey nodded, having no doubt that Donatello was saying the truth.

"How would you know that for sure?" Leonardo asked, suspicious.

Donatello bit his lip, reluctant to answer. "Because I know what caused this, and it's not contagious."

"And you didn't think to share that information?" Raphael's eyes were shining dangerously. Donatello could tell that he was making a huge effort not to explode.

"Guys, I can't. You have to trust me!" He thought bitterly that maybe it was too much to ask in the current situation.

"Donnie, you need help," Leonardo pleaded. "You're sick!"

Donatello fought his panic. He couldn't say that he hadn't seen it coming. He was no fool, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his family nosed in his business and took matters in hand. He had done his best to avoid it, and it was still happening. Well, he would face it like the courageous ninja he was, and not like the terrified teenager he also was.

There was one thing left to ask.

"In my lab. Let's do this in my lab, please, guys, you have to listen to me!"

If they refused, he was prepared to fight them on the spot. He didn't expect to win against the three of them, of course, but he hoped that it would give them a clue about how important it was.

"We want to listen to you, Donnie, you're the one who doesn't tell us anything," Leonardo replied, clearly frustrated. "Alright. We'll talk in your lab."

Donatello released his breath, immensely relieved.

As soon as they arrived at the lair, Leonardo headed for the dojo. "I'll tell Splinter."

"Don't make it sound like it's serious. Tell him we want to share a cake or something," Donatello pleaded in a conspirator's tone. He wasn't going to tell his brothers about the camera just yet. He didn't need them to freak out.

Leonardo looked at him as if he was going crazy. "A cake?"

"Leo, it's important. Please."

Leonardo nodded stiffly and left. Donatello led Raphael and Michelangelo to his lab and went for his desk. He sat down in his chair, trying to hide as much of himself as he could behind his laptop. He knew he didn't look good, and the bright lighting of his lab, so useful for his various experiments, did him no favors.

One minute later, Leonardo and Splinter joined them. His father looked concerned, but not overly worried. Donatello briefly wondered what Leonardo had told him, and if he had gone by the cake's scheme.

Now that he was facing his whole family, he felt oddly at peace. He had feared that discussion ever since he had come home with the vial, and now the fear was gone, replaced by numbness.

It didn't even look like a tribunal. Raphael was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Leonardo stood next to Splinter, his expression worried, and Michelangelo sat on the corner of Donatello's desk, ready to engulf him in a giant hug if need be.

"Donatello, my son. Leonardo told me that you wanted to share a cake with us?" Splinter's voice made clear that he didn't believe a word of it. He must be curious to know why Leonardo had told him that. Donatello felt grateful that his brother had kept his word, even though he hated lying to Splinter.

"Not exactly. The dojo..." Donatello hesitated and chose his next words carefully. He wanted them as neutral as possible to describe the situation with the best accuracy. "We can't talk in the dojo. It's being monitored."

Splinter turned to Leonardo, who had his mouth wide open in shock.

"Donnie didn't want me to tell you what was going on," he defended himself. "He was pretty upset. But I had no idea why." He shook his head. "Who would monitor our dojo?" he added, more to himself than to his father.

"So what is going on?" Splinter lifted an eyebrow.

In his corner behind Splinter's back, Raphael rolled his eyes. "If only we knew."

Splinter gave no sign that he had heard his son's comment, focusing on Donatello.

"Donatello?"

Donatello bit his lip, delaying the inevitable a few more seconds. He kept his hands on his knees, hidden behind the desk.

"Leonardo?" Splinter asked.

Donatello gave his brother one last begging look, hoping against all hope that he would shut up.

"Donnie's sick," Leonardo answered reluctantly, glaring at Donatello for letting him do the talking. Donatello glared back.

Splinter frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He has these white spots on his skin, and he covered them in makeup," Michelangelo supplied, feeling allowed to talk now that there was no going back.

If possible, Splinter's frown grew bigger. "Spots?"

Donatello didn't try to resist as his father came closer and delicately took his wrists in his hands. In his well-lit lab, the white spots looked ominous, and he grimaced.

"Donatello!" His father's grasp on his wrists tightened just a little. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Would you accept 'that's nothing' for an answer?" Donatello asked without much hope.

"No," the combined voices of his brothers and father chorused.

He sighed deeply. And to think that he loved to explain. Usually.

"First, you have to understand that your timing is very inconvenient."

"Oh, sorry. We should have let you keep doing who knows what to yourself."

"Raphael." Splinter gave his son a look.

Raphael mumbled something, looking fierce.

"Second, I want you to know that I'm fine… Mostly. I've been drinking tea, and it helped." He risked a quick glance Splinter's way.

His father stroked his beard. "So that's why my reserves were depleted. But these spots?"

"Are ugly, I'll admit it, but not…" He felt the coughing coming, and was unable to prevent it. He heard the sound of a ninja smoke bomb right before the cloud reached his eyes. A second later, Michelangelo was handing him a glass of water.

He gulped it with relief. "Thank you, Mikey." Seeing that his family was still waiting for his answer, he sighed. "I don't exactly know what these spots are, but they're not contagious, and shouldn't be too dangerous either…" He cut himself short and shook his head, suddenly too tired to sugarcoat the truth. "No, I don't know about that. Really, I have no idea."

"Do you know where they come from?" Splinter asked calmly, raising his hand to prevent an appalled Leonardo from talking.

"I do," Donatello admitted. "And if I tell you, maybe I'll have done all of this for nothing."

Splinter closed his eyes one brief instant.

"Please trust us, my son. We only want to help you."

Donatello bit his lip. Before he could change his mind and make it even harder on himself, he stood up and took the vial from his hiding place behind his extractor.

"This," he said in a trembling voice, showing it to them. "I'm taking this."

There, he was doing it. One step at a time. And nobody had died yet.

Michelangelo's eyes widened. "Are you on drugs?"

"No!" Donatello exclaimed, taken aback.

"Where did you find this?" Leonardo asked at the same time. "Did you... did you _make_ it?"

"Of course not! Do you really think that I would just drink some random mixture I made?" Donatello replied hotly. He felt offended, and it didn't get better when Leonardo coughed and refused to meet his eye. "You do!" he accused.

"Can you blame him?" Raphael whispered from his corner.

Donatello threw his arms up. Anger was good. Anger blurred the fear and anxiety, and filled him with a short-lived strength. It would have to do.

"I'm not on drugs! I'm taking this because… because…" He rubbed his temples. "I'm being blackmailed," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"_What?_"

"Guys, not so loud, please," Donatello shushed them, sending a worried glance towards the door. Luckily Leonardo had closed it behind him when he had come inside, and it was a solid door, as sound-proof as possible.

"Well, you're not anymore," Raphael said suddenly, snatching the vial from Donatello's hand.

"Raph! Don't be stupid, I have to take another drop of that today!" Donatello said in dismay, realizing too late that it might not have been the best thing to tell his family.

"What? You're not going to keep drinking this, Dee, it looks evil!" Michelangelo protested. "And you know I never say that from food or drinks," he added as an afterthought.

Donatello gritted his teeth. "I. Have. To."

"Why, Donnie?"

"Promise me that you'll stay quiet," Donatello whispered. He waited until everybody in the room had nodded. "A week ago, I received a message from Irma."

"Irma? Like Kraang-Subprime Irma?" Michelangelo exclaimed, before quickly covering his mouth with his hand. "Oops, sorry, Donnie. Keep talking."

"She asked for a meeting, and gave me this. She wants me to take it in, and describe the effects to her. I discovered that she had left cameras in the lair, and removed them, except for one in the dojo…"

"I thought we were done with these Kraang," Raphael muttered.

"You mentioned blackmail," Splinter interjected, his hands tightening on his cane. "What did she threaten you with?"

"She…" He looked at each one of his brothers in turn. Now that he had gone that far, he could as well say everything. They needed to know why he had to go on with Irma's scheme. Even if it was bound to upset them… He braced himself. "She implanted a bomb in one of you."

There. It was out in the open. Donatello held his breath and waited for the inevitable uproar.

To his surprise, it didn't come. In the heavy silence that followed, he could see his brothers hesitate between mild surprise and incredulity.

"Uh, Donnie, and you believed it?" Michelangelo shook his head. "Dudes, does one of you remember being implanted with a bomb?"

"Nope," Raphael replied.

"Me neither," Leonardo added.

"My son. Are you saying that one of your brothers could die at any time?" Splinter's hands clung tighter to his cane.

Donatello felt oddly relieved that at least his father was taking his fears seriously. "I... Yes." He hung his head in utter defeat.

"And who would that be?"

"I... I have no idea." Donatello wrung his already abused wrists.

"So how would you know?"

"Irma told me. She sent me proof. But I don't know who it is." He watched his brothers desperately, begging them to understand. He would have yelled if he hadn't been terrified that he would be heard from the dojo and its fateful camera.

"And you didn't want to know?" Michelangelo asked. From his relaxed expression, Donatello could tell that he wasn't convinced.

"It's not Kraang tech, so I couldn't detect it like I did with the cameras," he explained.

"And what about a gold old metal detector? A non-Kraang metal detector?" Raphael suggested. He didn't seem to take the situation seriously either - at least not the part where somebody was carrying a bomb.

Donatello thought about it. "I guess it could work."

"Do you have that?" Splinter prodded.

"Of course I have that." Donatello almost managed to smile.

Everybody in the room held his breath as he retrieved the earthly item, a brown rectangle with a metallic loop on one of its sides.

Michelangelo gulped. "Here it goes," he said, bending forward until his head was under the detector.

"You don't need to be under it," Donatello pointed out in a poor attempt to release his tension. He switched on the device and waited for the familiar curve to appear.

The detector remained silent.

With a sigh of relief, Donatello smiled. "You're good, Mikey."

"Yeah!" Michelangelo smiled. "I told you, Dee."

Leonardo and Raphael shared a look.

"This is ridiculous. How could Irma have put a bomb in our body without us noticing?" Raphael huffed. In spite of himself, he was beginning to worry.

Leonardo came closer. "Let's get it over with. Donnie, if you would please...?"

Donatello nodded. Teeth gritted, he waved the detector around Leonardo's body.

Nothing.

"I don't believe any of it," Raphael said, stomping to take Leonardo's place. "But suit yourself, Donnie. You'll see that she tricked you."

Donatello prayed that it was the case and checked his brother, detector in hand...

It beeped next to Raphael's shoulder.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"I have a plan," Donatello said quickly, as shocked realization made its way across Raphael's features. "Tomorrow, there will be a magnetic storm. I hope that the connection between the bomb and Irma will be lost, and we'll be able to remove it from your body without you exploding, and…"

"I'm going to explode?" Raphael's voice sounded very childish, and Donatello felt his heart break.

Somewhere in a detached part of his mind, he acknowledged the irony of Raphael being at risk to explode - literally. He rejected the thought as soon as it occurred to him. Why couldn't his snarky brain give him a break for once? "No, no, of course not! I won't let it happen, Raph."

However, Raphael had come to another realization, and he wasn't listening. "I could kill you! Any moment, I could...I could... Stay away from me!"

Michelangelo, who had begun running towards him - probably for a bear hug - froze.

"Raphael, calm down!" Splinter interfered, and Donatello could only admire his self-control.

"How am I supposed to calm down?" Raphael looked at each of them in turn. "I'm putting you in danger!"

"I told you, I have a plan," Donatello said desperately. "I'll keep doing what Irma wants until tomorrow, and…"

"Donnie, I don't want you to keep drinking her mixture!" Raphael replied in a strained voice, the vial still in his hand. "Can't you see that..." He choked on the words he didn't dare to say. "Don't do that to yourself."

"Invent something," Michelangelo suggested, deadly serious. "Tell her you did drink it and describe a few side effects. I can help you if you're short of ideas."

"And what if she realizes it?" Donatello clenched his fists.

"She won't, not for one single time." Leonardo nodded, determined. "Don't you think for one second that we'll let you keep poisoning yourself."

Donatello closed his eyes tight to keep the tears at bay. "I would rather not take that risk."

"But I will, and that's my body we're talking about," Raphael replied. "I'll take your word, Donnie. When is this magnetic storm you've been talking about?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Alright." Raphael drew in a short breath. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then."

"Wait, what?" Donatello replied, immediately suspicious. "What do you mean?"

Raphael shrugged. "I can't stay with you. It's too dangerous, and I trust no Kraang."

"Where do you want to go?" Leonardo asked calmly, having apparently already guessed where his brother was going.

Donatello shook his head wildly, refusing to let his mind wander in that direction.

"The docks," Raphael whispered. "I'll stay in the water. Don't try to track me, guys."

"We won't." Leonardo smiled to him. "Keep your T-Phone with you, okay? And call us every hour."

Raphael smirked, a pale reflection of one of his favorite expressions. "No promises. And keep an eye on Donnie for me. Don't let him drink another drop of this wretched mixture, okay? Maybe I should take it with me."

"We will," Leonardo promised, and Michelangelo nodded vigorously.

Donatello found his voice again. "I'm not done investigating it," he warned. "It could prove crucial to my... recovery." He averted his eyes, not willing to see his father's expression at these words.

Raphael grimaced and handed it over to him. "Fine, you keep it."

"Good luck, my son," Splinter whispered. "We'll see each other again soon."

"Sure thing, Sensei." With a sharp bow, Raphael left them.

Donatello watched him depart, unable to find anything to say to hold him back.

Raphael, so desperate to protect them.

Exactly like him.


	8. On the Verge of Exploding

As soon as Raphael's shadow disappeared, Donatello turned to the rest of his family. He couldn't help feeling bitter.

"And now what?"

"Now you allow yourself to relax, my son." Splinter put a comforting hand on Donatello's shoulder. "Tomorrow, Raphael will need you in the best shape you can be."

"Sensei, I can't relax now!" Donatello protested, not believing his ears. "There is so much I have to do before the storm! I thought Raph would be in the lair during it, but he won't." He threw his arms up in sheer frustration. Couldn't his brothers have waited? "Now I won't be able to create a sterile environment, which is a problem, mind you. And did I mention that Irma will be awaiting my report? Not to mention you better hope she doesn't notice Raph's absence."

"What do you think she would do?"

Michelangelo's anxiety was obvious, and did nothing to appease Donatello's. What if something happened to Raphael while he was away? He was pretty sure that his brother wouldn't call them for help. It was stupid. Did he think they didn't care about what happened to him?

"I don't know!" he almost yelled. "She's a crazy alien who thinks it's funny to implant bombs into people! How am I supposed to get into her head?"

"Donnie, breathe." Leonardo extended his hands in front of him in a calming gesture. "One thing at a time."

Donatello snorted and crossed his arms. As if he couldn't multitask. He could use some help to sort his thoughts, though, and he was willing to listen to what his brother had to say. He was just unwilling to admit it.

"First, I need to know what exactly you told Irma. She's our enemy."

Donatello rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe I told her where our lair was? Oh wait."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes slightly, not happy to be answered with sarcasm. Donatello held steady for twenty seconds before the urge to expand on his answer in more detail won.

"I didn't tell her anything about us. I only described my symptoms… when I had any," he quickly added when he noticed his brothers and father's expressions. "And I didn't share the results of my own experiments with her." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "The molecular structure of the vial's substance is unlike anything I've ever seen. It's not mutagen, and it's not from this planet either. On a purely scientific plan, it's amazing."

"Donatello." His father's closed expression made very clear what he thought of science at that moment. "Do you know what you're risking?"

Donatello bowed his head, embarrassed. "Not…not exactly."

His family watched him, appalled. He knew what they were afraid of. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid of it too. Of course he had already thought about it - and none of his assumptions were particularly enticing. But he already had so much on his plate, no time to think about it now. No time to wonder if his body had suffered permanent damage.

Leonardo took a deep breath and switched the topic. "What will you do for Raph? Irma might not be able to trigger the bomb during the storm, but it's still inside his body."

Donatello hesitated. "Surgery. He'll need surgery."

Michelangelo gulped. "You're going to cut Raph into slices? Like Dr Madwell did in the last episode of…"

"No, Mikey, I won't," Donatello cut him off. "We'll just need to cut the skin and part of his muscle. The bomb is tiny enough to have been injected with a syringe, and I have a good idea where it is. It'll require dexterity, and someone will have to… uh… wipe off the…hem… small quantity of blood that will inevitably escape from the cut…" He ignored his brothers' disgusted faces to glance at his father. "…so the one operating can see what he's doing."

"I'll help you, my son." Splinter smiled reassuringly. "Just tell me what to do."

Donatello nodded his gratitude.

"There are a few things I need to check in my anatomy books before that. Of course, it would be easier if there were anatomy books about mutant turtles." He sighed. "And I also need to write my report for Irma."

"You'll forge it like a pro, Donnie." Michelangelo patted his shoulder. "And I'll be there to help you."

Donatello groaned. Helping him would probably involve watching him like a hawk so he didn't have the opportunity to take another drop from the vial. Not that he was looking forward to do that, but he felt uneasy cheating with Irma's instructions. Especially so close to the end of this nightmare.

"Last thing, Donnie." Leonardo absent-mindedly put a hand on the hilt of one of his swords. "Do you know where Irma is hiding?"

"Why? You can't do anything now," Donatello asked anxiously.

"I won't do anything until Raph is safe. Then _we_ can do something together." Leonardo looked him in the eye.

Donatello nodded slowly. "I might be able to find her." He glanced at his Kraang Tech Detector, lying in a corner of his lab. "If need be."

Leonardo acknowledged his answer before turning to Splinter.

"Sensei, maybe we could stay in the dojo for a while?" he suggested. "With some luck, it'll keep Irma busy watching us."

Splinter nodded. As they left the lab, Donatello heard Leonardo's whisper.

"I can't believe that the lair has been compromised."

Donatello didn't hear Splinter's reply, and he didn't have time to ponder Leonardo's words.

He was alone with Michelangelo.

* * *

Donatello waited for Michelangelo to speak first, but his brother, for once, didn't seem to want to make conversation. He was sitting on Donatello's desk and balancing his legs.

Donatello sighed and began typing the beginnings of a report for Irma. He had the white spots and coughing to describe. He wondered if taking another drop today would have worsened these symptoms. Should he exaggerate them a bit?

He suddenly realized that it would be the last report he would write. At the same hour tomorrow, he would be free of Irma's blackmail.

And Raph would be safe and sound at his side to take her down. He would.

Donatello began typing with renewed determination, his tongue stuck slightly out in concentration.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us." The hurt in Michelangelo's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I thought it would be better if you didn't know." Donatello swallowed hard. "For the record, I still do."

Michelangelo sighed. "Yeah, I know. It doesn't make it right."

"There is nothing right about any of this." Donatello gritted his teeth, trying to keep his tone soft. None of it was Michelangelo's fault. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Dude, I'm just saying you shouldn't have been alone on this." Michelangelo jumped from the desk to put his elbows on it and leaned forward, looking Donatello in the eye. "I wanted to be here for you."

Donatello looked away, unable to withstand the crocodile tears Michelangelo had put in his eyes. Or was he faking them?

"I'm sorry, Mikey, but there was too much at stake and…"

He shut up, not knowing how to end his sentence. It wasn't like he had wanted to keep his brothers in the dark, but he still felt guilty he had.

Michelangelo shrugged. "Nothing new," he whispered. Then he took a glance at Donatello's screen. "Is that your report?"

Donatello nodded, insanely grateful for the change of topic.

"Uuuh, Donnie, that's boring! 'Spots the diameter of 0.2, 0.3 and 0.35 inches'? Who cares about that?"

"It's a scientific report. It has to be accurate."

"It's still boring, Dee. Why don't you say that these spots are spreading like evil mushrooms on your skin instead?"

"It's… not how it works." Donatello gave him a look.

Michelangelo shook his head. "You really needed my help," he muttered.

The next hour flew by. Donatello did a lot of editing, but it was fun to see Michelangelo's wild imagination at work. They were in the middle of discussing whether or not comparing Donatello to a mutated turnip would help their cause when Michelangelo's phone beeped.

"It's Raph!" Michelangelo grinned. "He texted me!"

Before Donatello had the time to ask what the text said, Michelangelo was calling Raphael.

"Hey, Raph! How are you doing?" He listened to the answer before nodding. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh. It's not too cold?"

"Mikey, the speaker!" Donatello whispered, eager to hear Raphael's voice.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Michelangelo offered him a sheepish smile and pressed a key on his T-Phone.

And here it was, half-grumpy and half-snarky like it should be, and Donatello's stomach unknotted. He hadn't even realized he was so tense.

"How is Donnie doing?" Raphael was asking. "I hope he's not being too difficult."

"No, he's being very cooperative," Michelangelo answered like a proud dad.

Donatello hid his face in his hands.

"Do you want to tell him something?" Michelangelo went on, before handing the phone to Donatello when Raphael agreed.

Donatello took it delicately like the precious link to his precious brother it was.

"Yes, Raph?" he said, his voice hoarse.

"NEXT TIME SAY SOMETHING!"

Donatello almost dropped the phone. "I should have seen that coming," he muttered to himself as Michelangelo laughed.

"And, Donnie?" Raphael went on, his voice at a normal volume - although his tone was more hesitant than usual. "Take good care of yourself."

"Sure. I'll do what I can to avoid becoming deaf," Donatello half-joked. "I'm taking the first steps right now by not letting this phone anywhere near my ear."

He heard Raphael chuckle, and felt warmth engulf him. They were going to save him. He knew it in his heart.

Any other possibility, no matter how scientifically likely, was outright irrelevant.

* * *

Hours passed. Donatello was more tired than ever, but he was beginning to feel more confident about the upcoming intervention on Raphael. He had put all the necessary items in a medical bag and inside the Shellraiser. Now he wanted to discuss the procedure with Splinter.

He had also checked the space weather again. According to the latest update, the storm would hit the Earth in the early afternoon rather than in the evening. It was both good and bad news; it meant that it would be over sooner, but also that they would have to move during the day. Good thing he had built a Shellraiser.

He glanced at Michelangelo, rolled into a ball on the floor and sleeping soundly. He had refused to go take some rest into his own bed. Donatello smiled fondly and decided to go into the dojo to see what Leonardo and Splinter had been doing for so long. He stood up and grimaced at the sudden dizziness he was experiencing. He leaned on his desk and took deep breathes. When his phone rang, he immediately picked it up, his heart beating faster. Was it Raphael again?

It wasn't.

"Donnie!"

"A-a-april!" Donatello's brain tried to process this information. Why would April call him now? Did she… did she suspect something? But how? "To what do I owe the honor of your call? As much as I love hearing your voice, you know we usually sleep at that time of the day."

"Casey told me. Oh my gosh, Donnie, I can't believe I didn't realize what was going on."

"Casey?" Donatello choked. "What does Casey know?"

April coughed. "Well, he learned it from Raph, who called him to... to..." April stayed quiet for a few seconds. "You know, to say goodbye."

Silence stretched between them.

"No need to say goodbye," Donatello finally said in a strained voice. "He'll be fine. And why did Casey tell you, anyways? I'm sure Raph told him to keep his big mouth shut."

"Oh, he might have told Casey to shut up," April admitted. "And I might have insisted that he didn't. But we're not talking about Casey now."

Donatello cleared his throat, which triggered a coughing fit. Which, of course, didn't do anything to reassure April.

"Donnie… Be honest with me. How are you?"

Donatello's fingers tightened around the phone. "I… I've seen better," he admitted.

"I want to be there." April said softly. "When you take Irma down."

Her fierce voice also held a hint of guilt, and Donatello remembered that she was the one who had brought Irma to the lair.

"Of course, April," he quickly answered.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"What? No!" Donatello didn't want his friend seeing him in that state, and more importantly, he didn't want to lose his focus now. "I need to get ready. I'll call you back, alright?"

"Alright."

Donatello sighed and hung up. As much as he wanted to keep talking to April, he really had to talk to Splinter and make sure everything that could be under control was.

"So April knows."

Donatello jumped. He hadn't heard Leonardo coming inside.

"Yes. She wants to help to take Irma down."

Leonardo nodded. "Good. The sooner the better. We need to put an end to her threat. After the storm, when Raph will be safe..." Leonardo's voice didn't hold the slightest hint of doubt that Raphael would be, which Donatello was grateful for. "We need to find where she is and make sure she won't attack us again. I wish we could leave the lair. It isn't safe."

"Then why don't we leave now?" Michelangelo stretched and yawned.

"Because we don't want to attract Irma's attention," Donatello explained, wondering how long his brother had been faking sleep.

"About that, what did you do with Splinter?" Michelangelo asked Leonardo.

Leonardo smirked. "We meditated together."

Michelangelo nodded his appreciation. "Good thinking, bro. I hope Irma collapsed from boredom."

For once, Leonardo didn't try to convince him that the ancient art of meditation wasn't boring, focusing on Donatello instead. "Is there anything we could do now to be ready when the time comes?"

"Actually, yes." Donatello straightened up. "I think we could use the satellite dish Casey saved for me to give my Kraang Tech Detector a broader range. I already put both in the Shellraiser. We would have to wait for the end of the storm, of course, or it could be damaged. He rummaged through his shelves. "Protect it with this, and choose a tall building."

Leonardo took the sheet of altered aluminum Donatello was giving him and nodded. "I'll take the Shellraiser. I'll be back in no time."

"See you later." Donatello smiled.

* * *

A while later, Donatello and Splinter were discussing the last details of Donatello's plan to save Raphael in the kitchen, while Michelangelo played around with Donatello's metal detector, Ice Cream Kitty on his shoulder.

"See, Ice Cream Kitty," he whispered to his cat. "It rings with my nunchucks because they're metal. And it doesn't ring with Donatello's bō staff because it's wooden… Uh…"

Michelangelo looked quizzically at the ringing detector.

"I added a blade inside," Donatello reminded him. "And that detector isn't a toy."

"Of course it is." Michelangelo stuck his tongue out at him and waved the detector around.

Donatello rolled his eyes and resumed his conversation with Splinter, ignoring the beeps of the metal detector. He showed his father images of his anatomy book. Surgery wasn't forgiving. They had to get it right.

"Uh, Donnie? Did you also put a blade under the kitchen's floor?"

"I didn't, Mikey," Donatello answered absent-mindedly. He knew Michelangelo was trying to cope with the recent events by goofing around, and he wasn't going to blame him, but he really needed to focus on somebody else right now.

"Uh-oh."

Something in his tone triggered an alarm in Donatello's mind.

"Michelangelo?" Splinter frowned.

Next to the kitchen's door, Michelangelo was looking at them with dread. He had apparently removed a tiny bit of the floor, which allowed him to see what was under…

Donatello was on his feet in a second. He snatched his bō staff and pointed it at the thing Michelangelo had just discovered.

It was a metallic thing alright, and it was flashing pink lights.

It looked very, very wrong.

But if the bomb inside Raph's body hadn't been from alien material, why wouldn't Irma have put the same type of bomb in the lair? To, say, make sure she kept the upper hand?

Irma's registered voice echoed through the kitchen.

"Automated explosion protocol engaged. With the compliments of Kraang Subprime."

Donatello swore inwardly. Why would Irma risk killing them all by using an automated protocol? The bomb must have been a second option. Or did she intend to betray them all along?

"5… 4… 3…"

Donatello knew he wouldn't manage to deactivate that bomb in only three seconds. He tried to dislodge it to send it far, far away - in the sewers tunnels for example, so it wouldn't explode in the lair…

"2…"

It was glued to the ground. Donatello opened his mouth to tell everybody to get out, fast, but Splinter's hand was already grabbing his arm and pushing him out of the kitchen, along with Michelangelo, and the three of them ran for the turnstiles…

"1."

As their home collapsed into a zillion debris before the countdown reached zero, Donatello didn't curse Irma for her trickery.

No, the throbbing question in his head wasn't about her at all.

That bomb… Had it been linked to Raphael's?


	9. In the Eye of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sooo… where did I leave? Ah, yes. Right at a cliffhanger. *cough* Time to go on!_

The smoke was suffocating, and Donatello fought to find his breath again. His shell had taken most of the blast - one of those times when he was grateful to be a turtle.

"Is everyone alright?" he coughed more than spoke, reaching for his T-Phone to light the scenery. They had made it into the sewer tunnels, but the lights had gone out.

"Ice Cream Kitty and I are okay," Michelangelo answered in a small voice.

"I'll be fine, my son."

Donatello's heart skipped a beat at Splinter's use of the future. He turned his T-Phone's light on to look at him.

Both he and Michelangelo started and rushed to him.

"Sensei!"

Splinter was bleeding and limping. Unlike his sons, he didn't have a shell - and he had been the last to leave. He put a hand on their shoulders.

"This is nothing, my sons. I'm grateful that we are all alive. I'll heal."

Donatello gave him a brief nod. All alive… but were they? Had they condemned Raphael by triggering that bomb?

As if he was reading his thoughts, Michelangelo grabbed his shoulder. "We would know if Raph was… gone... Right?" he pleaded.

Donatello turned his head to hide his expression. "Of course, Mikey."

He then busied himself with assessing the damage done to the lair. Well, that was a quick task. It had entirely collapsed. He wasn't sure what could have stayed intact in the wreckage, but he knew they weren't going to find out any time soon - and not without the proper equipment.

For the time being, they had lost everything they possessed.

Again.

At his side, Michelangelo sighed. "It was a good lair. I'll miss it."

"Meow," Ice Cream Kitty added comfortingly.

Donatello closed his eyes and allowed his rational mind to run free. He couldn't let despair take over his soul.

It wasn't true that they had lost everything. They still had their weapons and everything that had been in the Shellraiser, including his medical bag, which meant that Raphael's rescue could still be performed - with the assumption that there still was a Raphael to rescue. He estimated that probability to a good 34.5 percent, with a confidence interval of 5.6 percent. His brothers and himself had survived odds way worse than that, hadn't they? However…

"The vial!" Donatello shouted, immediately upset. "It was in my lab."

He looked at the remnants of their lair again, as if the walls would suddenly reform and allow him to go inside said lab to retrieve the precious item. Like Michelangelo would have said, it had been a good lab. Solid, faithful, the companion of many a sleepless night. It had tolerated his craziest experiments and never once complained. And now, it had ceased to exist.

Michelangelo looked at him sheepishly. "Uhhh... About that…"

Donatello turned to him, a tiny hope forming in his heart. "Or wasn't it?"

"I thought it would be safer with me," Michelangelo admitted with a sheepish smile, producing the vial in his right hand while the left was nervously stroking his pet.

Donatello was too relieved to argue that he couldn't see how anything this scientifically dangerous would be safer with Michelangelo. "Give it to me."

Michelangelo almost looked like he wouldn't, but in the end, he handed the vial to Donatello, who hid it in his belt.

Splinter cleared his throat to get their attention.

"We must go. We don't want to meet sewer workers alerted by the noise."

"Yes, Master Splinter." With a last glance at the place where he had, all in all, been happy, he began walking in the sewer tunnel next to his father.

"Where are we going to live now?" Michelangelo asked with concern.

"This is a question for another time, my son. Right now, we should focus on finding your brothers."

"You're right, Sensei. I should probably warn Leo. He'll have a heart attack if he comes back to this and we're nowhere to be seen." Donatello pressed the button that would automatically call his brother.

It didn't work.

"No reception?" Donatello frowned. Has the phone been damaged in the explosion? "Mikey, can you try?"

"On it, Dee." Michelangelo took his own T-Phone, covering it in ice cream. "Uh… It's not working."

"Maybe the magnetic storm has begun," Donatello muttered to himself. Raphael's survival chances had just increased by a solid 12.8 percent. "Let's go!"

With renewed determination, he made for the closest manhole cover.

"Donatello!" Splinter called him back. "Do not forget that it's still daytime. Maybe we should choose another path to the surface."

Donatello didn't hesitate. "I think we should still try it, Sensei. I need to know if the magnetic storm has indeed begun. Besides, Leo should be near. In fact, he…" Donatello shut his mouth before it could finish forming the sentence in his head. _He should already be back. He said he was going to hurry._

Splinter sighed. "Alright, my son. Just be careful."

Donatello heard Michelangelo chuckle.

"When are we not?"

* * *

They surfaced in their favorite alleyway, which had the good taste to be deserted.

As he raised his head to look at the sky, Donatello immediately had his first answer.

"Wow," Michelangelo whispered. "Do you see that, Kitty?"

"Meow."

"Northern lights." Despite the situation, Donatello smiled. "I never thought I would see them in New York."

"This is beautiful indeed," Splinter whispered.

The green veils in the sky were moving as if they were alive. It was an amazing sight, which was brutally interrupted by an upset shout.

"Guys! What happened? And… Sensei? You're here too? And you're hurt!"

Donatello snapped back to reality and offered Leonardo a relieved smile, while Michelangelo embraced him. "Leo! You're here!"

"Yes. Sewer workers were blocking the way to the garage, so I parked the Shellraiser not far from there and decided to come home on foot. What happened down there?"

Donatello took a deep breath. "Let's put it that way. Remember when you said we needed a second basis? You were right at the time. And it's still true."

Leonardo opened his mouth, but no sound left it.

"It went boom," Michelangelo added in Leonardo's ear. "Boooooom."

"Meoow," Ice Cream Kitty emphasized, leaving some ice cream on Leonardo's cheek.

"What about your mission?" Donatello went on as if this was the most sensible thing to say. He felt too tired to expand on the loss of their lair.

"I was delayed for a while, but the mission is accomplished," Leonardo answered mechanically. "Let's go back to the Shellraiser. It's not safe here."

As Michelangelo was filling their brother in, Donatello rested a brief second against the wall. The recent events were taking his toll in him. As if he needed to push his body even further.

As soon as they were settled inside Donatello's creation - it felt so good, so _familiar _\- he began tapping away at his control panel.

Leonardo ran to the wheel while Michelangelo helped Splinter with the first-aid kit. "Donnie, are you positive that the storm has begun?"

"Did you see the lights?" Donatello answered derisively.

His brother glared at him, prompting him to elaborate.

"Yes. Communication networks are down… So is GPS… Oh, and part of the electrical network too, if I judge by the absence of traffic lights."

A car emerged from a nearby street and beeped. Leonardo barely avoided it. Donatello noticed how Splinter was gritting his teeth at the sudden move.

"Then let's go to the docks. We don't want to keep Raph waiting, do we?"

"It's so silent," Michelangelo mused. "I had imagined… I don't know, an actual storm. With clouds and thunder, you see?"

"Oh, don't worry. This storm will cause a lot of damage nonetheless. I wonder how many transformers have already been lost."

"Didn't the city prepare for that? We knew it was coming," Leonardo remarked.

Donatello shrugged. "I guess after an alien invasion, a magnetic storm doesn't seem that big a hassle."

Ice Cream Kitty meowed, and Michelangelo put her in the Shellraiser's freezer. "Donnie, why did you build it so narrow?" he complained.

"Be glad that I added a freezer at all, Mikey." Donatello patted his head absent-mindedly. He was beginning to worry. He had counted on Splinter's help to remove the bomb from Raphael's body, but it was clear that their father wasn't going to move from the Shellraiser anytime soon.

Which meant that he would have to do it, alone. While he felt tired to his bones. When a wrong move could mean death.

He felt his father's gaze upon him and gave Splinter a questioning look.

"My son," Splinter whispered. "I know you can do this." He smiled tenderly at Donatello, who felt on the verge of tears.

"Thank you, Father."

* * *

A surprise awaited them at the docks.

Two surprises, in fact.

"April? Casey? What are you doing here?"

Michelangelo had long jumped out of the Shellraiser to welcome their friends that Donatello was still hiding inside it. Splinter, who was obviously avoiding moving, raised a hand to cover his mouth.

Donatello could hear April's voice very clearly from his position under his seat.

"As soon as we realized that our phones weren't working, we understood that the storm had begun and we decided to wait for you at the docks," she explained. "Where's Donnie?"

"Inside," Michelangelo supplied helpfully.

_Traitor, _Donatello thought. He wondered whether there was a chance that April wouldn't notice him, but the awkward, logical answer was no. Not in a million years. So he stood up and dusted himself before going outside to meet April, keeping his arms and their unhealthy white spots carefully behind his back.

"Hi, April."

"Donnie!" April ran and embraced him. "Oh my gosh, Donnie, I was so worried!"

Donatello tried to find something clever to say. In the end, he opted for a clever silence and patted April's back.

April was examining him closely, and he shifted uncomfortably, hoping he didn't look too bad. "I wonder how you're still standing," she muttered.

So much for that.

"I'm a stubborn turtle."

April shook her head. "You should be at home, resting."

"We don't have a home anymore," Michelangelo's voice said sadly, and April's eyes widened.

"Long story short." Donatello shook his head. "Don't trigger bombs in your floor."

April gaped, and Casey, who had kept a low profile until then, swore.

"Then…" April asked. "Where is Master Splinter?"

"In the Shellraiser. He was hurt. But he'll be fine," he added when he saw April's expression. "He's not hurt like that."

"April has a point, though," Casey interjected. "You should be resting, dude. You look terrible."

Donatello glared at him. Casey shrugged.

"Just telling the truth. You look like you could collapse every second. And what are these spots on your wrists?"

"What spots?" April turned around Donatello so she could see his arms. "Donnie!"

"You're so not helping, Casey Jones," Donatello muttered. He shook his head. "Sorry if I'm not in the best of shapes, but it'll have to do. Unless one of you knows how to remove a bomb from a mutant turtle's body? No, nobody? I thought so." He took a deep breath. "Now let's go find Raph." He couldn't wait to see him. He needed to make sure that he was still there, that he was still alive, that the bomb inside of him hadn't exploded…

_Raph, please. Be there. We need you._

"Oh, we already found him," Casey said matter-of-factly. "He's right there." He pointed at a nearby pontoon. "He says he's not going out of the water."

"Sounds like him," Donatello mumbled, barely hiding the relief overwhelming him. He walked to the pontoon and bent over. "Raph!"

No answer.

"Raph, I know you're here," Donatello added. "And unless you want me to open your skin in this filthy water full of germs, I suggest you join me on the land."

He heard a grumble, then Raphael spoke. Donatello smiled at hearing the beloved gruff voice of his brother.

"Stay away from me. I'm dangerous."

Now he could see two eyes and a skull in the water below.

"Raph, don't be so stubborn," he chided. "We only have so much time before the storm ends, or somebody comes. You're not dangerous right now, I promise."

_Unless I make a mistake in the procedure, in which case we'll both be dead._

Raphael seemed to think about this.

"Fine. But the others stay away."

Donatello looked at his friends and brothers. Leonardo nodded.

"We'll have it your way," he said soothingly. "Now come out."

* * *

While Raphael swam to a part of the docks a little apart from the one where the Shellraiser was parked, and where they could hide behind containers, Donatello retrieved his medical bag.

"Are you sure you don't want help?" Casey asked, his fists clenching and unclenching. "I'm not afraid of blood. I could…"

April put a hand on his arm. "Casey, Raph will be fine. Donnie won't let anything happen to him, right Donnie?"

Donatello forced the corners of his mouth to go up.

"Of course not."

He didn't add that in case he couldn't prevent it, it would be better if the others weren't nearby.

His family smiled at him, and he nodded to them.

On his way to the containers, he realized that he had an unexpected problem.

His fingers were shaking.

He swore inwardly. As if he needed that in top of everything else. Was it a withdrawal symptom because he had stopped taking drops from the vial?

There was no way he could perform surgery with shaking hands.

Taking his decision, he checked that nobody could see what he was doing and took Irma's vial from his belt. The blue liquid inside looked as dangerous as ever. Gritting his teeth, he opened it and quickly drank from it. He had no pipette, so he couldn't make sure he was only taking one drop, but it would have to do. Hiding the vial in his belt again, he hurried to meet Raphael.

His brother was crouching behind a container. Donatello wanted to run to him and hug him, he was so happy to see him in one healthy piece.

"Took you long enough," Raphael said.

Donatello rolled his eyes, grinning, and noted with secret relief that his hands weren't shaking anymore.

"Nothing like a warm welcome to fill a turtle's heart with joy. Are you ready?"

"Ready to let you butcher me? Never," Raphael grumbled.

"Perfect. Turn around, I need to see your shoulder."

"What if it still explodes?" Raphael whispered as he obeyed.

"There is zero chance of that happening," Donatello bluffed. Either he was right and it was true, or he wasn't and it wouldn't matter. Because, well, there wouldn't be a Raphael or a Donatello left to care.

With this strangely comforting thought, Donatello set to work. He put on gloves and began disinfecting them, his tools, and Raphael's skin. He injected a painkiller to desensitize the area.

"By the way, do you remember anything about when it happened?" he asked, in the hope of distracting Raphael's attention. His brother, like all of them, wasn't particularly fond of needles. Maybe it was because way too many people - especially alien people - wanted to dissect them.

"I don't remember." Raphael's face was paling a little more every second.

Donatello took his scalpel. "Okay, here goes nothing. Tell me if you don't feel well. I'll work as fast as I can, and… Raph!"

Raphael had snatched the scalpel from his fingers and sliced his own skin open, way deeper than Donatello would have.

"Raphael!" he insisted, furious.

"Just take the blasted thing away, Donnie," Raphael retorted.

Donatello carefully took the scalpel back.

"And to think that you were afraid of _me _butchering _you_," he muttered.

"I wasn't afraid of anything."

Donatello glared at his brother. "Not another move. I mean it."

Thankfully, Raphael complied. In a matter of minutes, Donatello had found the tiny metallic orb that had been key to his obedience towards Irma. He removed it with gentle gestures, before throwing it into the water as far as he could. It detonated inside the water, causing a wave to crash against the docks.

"It's gone," he whispered.

"It is? Donnie, you're the best!" Raphael grinned and hugged his brother, forgetting that the operation wasn't over yet.

Donatello couldn't help smiling. "Wait, I still need to stitch the wound."

"Oh. Sorry."

A few minutes later, it was finally done. Raphael looked at his shoulder, his face reflecting his mixed feelings, before he shrugged and turned back to Donatello with a grin.

"Thank you, Donnie."

Donatello nodded weakly.

His brother was safe.

He was safe.

Finally.

Donatello closed his eyes. Now that it was over, he felt the exhaustion, the doubt and the fear that he had fought so hard to keep at bay rush to him. Engulf him. He had no energy left to repel them, no energy left at all…

"Donnie? Donnie!"

Donatello wanted to soothe his panicking brother. It was to be expected. He had known he was pushing himself too far all along.

He had known…

But what else could he have done?

He tried to speak, to comment on how enduring the body was, when you thought about it, but even that had become too much. Soon he didn't see the docks, the containers, or Raphael's face anymore.

Only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I know, I know._  
…  
_See you next chapter! (Or sooner in the comment section, if you want to comment or complain.)_


	10. Suspended Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _How did I end up for three major characters hurt, I wonder? Anyways. I'm glad to inform you that Donatello is now wrapped in warm blankets, and… What is it? He's unconscious and very sick, so it doesn't count as a comforting scene? Aww._

The guest room of Mr. O'Neil's apartment had never seen so many people at once. No less than three mutant turtles and two teenage humans were crammed into the room left around the double bed and the two shapes resting side by side on it.

Nobody was speaking. Stories had already been exchanged, for Raphael's sake who couldn't have known about the destruction of the lair. April's father hadn't even tried to protest against this invasion of his recently found again privacy - one look at his daughter's face and he had opened the doors of his home to her friends.

No, nobody was speaking - and still the air was heavy with all the words that needed to be said.

Donatello, at the center of everyone's attention, was the only one unaware of the tense atmosphere. Lost in a deep sleep, he couldn't feel the hand of his father stroking his head, nor the fingers of the usually so cheerful Michelangelo tightening around his arm - no more than the intense gazes of his two other brothers, the crumpled features of the girl he loved while she smoothed the blankets or the nervous shifting of his rival and friend, Casey Jones.

Mr. O'Neil had retreated to the kitchen, and was doing his best to prepare a meal for seven people, including five teenagers, although whether anybody was hungry was another matter entirely.

Now that Donatello wasn't moving, talking or smiling - with the little, weary smile of someone that was unwilling to give up, no matter the circumstances - it was plain obvious that he was completely worn out. His skin was too pale and too unhealthy, and his shape was so thin that he seemed tiny compared to Splinter, lying beside him on the bed.

And still nobody said a word, guilt and fear filling souls until it became too much, and one of the watchers snapped - but still, silently, because disturbing Donatello's rest would have been a sacrilege - and ran out of the room, closing the door behind him so delicately that it made no sound.

And Casey bit his lip and left after him, not sure of what he could do but certain that he had to try to do something, anything to help.

* * *

Raphael didn't stop until he was on the rooftop, his lungs filling up with the cold air of the late afternoon. The lights in the sky were gone - the storm from the Sun had ended, but the storm in his heart kept going.

Flashes of the recent events went through his mind. Donatello trying to reassure him when they had realized that he was carrying a bomb inside his body, Donatello insisting to keep playing Irma's game so he, Raphael, would stay safe, Donatello handing a solution on a plate and promising that he would be fine… Donatello somehow staying true to his word and saving Raphael's life, when all Raphael had managed to do was to be used like a pawn by the enemy… Donatello collapsing on the ground…

Donatello not waking up to his desperate shouts.

Donatello lying on a bed, eyes closed, and nobody could tell when he would open them again.

_Not again. Not again._

_Not again!_

He was only half-conscious of the holes he was making in the cement while his sai attacked the roof, but his senses sharpened by years of ninjitsu didn't miss the approach of the teenage boy he called his friend.

"Go away, Casey," he croaked.

Casey Jones ignored the warning. "You're going to reopen your wound if you don't stop."

"Like I care." Raphael made a point to hit the roof harder, intensifying the twinge in his shoulder.

Casey watched him in silence for a while.

"He's tough. He'll make it."

Raphael glared at him, a desperate glare that was almost a plea. "Of course he will! Of course… He…Will…"

The twinge had become sharper, and it was actually painful now. With a frustrated cry, he let go of his sai and tried to catch his breath.

Casey shrugged. "Told you."

Raphael didn't answer, but he allowed his friend to come closer and take a look at the newly stained bandage.

"I'm going to crush her," he whispered, gazing into the distance. "I'm going to tear her apart, robot piece by robot piece."

"I'll be happy to help."

Raphael closed his eyes. "And then I'll crush him for not saying anything," he added, his voice so low and so plaintive that it was more of a prayer, really.

* * *

Leonardo hadn't moved an inch since he had helped to settle Donatello and Splinter as comfortably as possible, not even when Raphael had stormed off. He knew his brother needed some space, and he trusted Casey to keep an eye on him. He needed to sort out his own feelings before he could help anyone else.

How could so much go so wrong in so little time?

A few days ago, he was in his home, his brothers and father around him, and they were still celebrating their victory against the Kraang.

And now, their lair was ruined - by a bomb that had exploded in his absence - and Donatello, after days of shutting them out, was so sick and exhausted that he had passed out.

How his brothers had managed to endure seeing him unconscious for three whole months was beyond him. The last hour had seemed like an eternity to him, and he could still hold on to the hope that Donatello wasn't in a coma, that his body merely needed to recover enough energy to wake up.

And he knew that, of course, Donatello wasn't going to wake up right now - at the very least he would sleep for hours. Likewise, his brother wouldn't disappear if he tore his eyes off him - he should make himself useful and begin to plan their next move. They needed a new home, and Irma presented a threat that had to be dealt with.

But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to leave the room.

* * *

Michelangelo was focusing on the warmth of Donatello's body to remember that his brother was still there, next to him. He had closed his eyes to avoid seeing how sick and tired he looked.

It was so unfair. Was this their reward for saving New York and all its citizens? To be homeless again, to be waiting again for one of their own to come back - as if it hadn't been torture enough the first time?

He had known for a long time that life wasn't supposed to be fair, but it still hurt to witness how much destiny threw itself at them.

Why hadn't Donatello talked to him? He would have understood. He would have helped him - and no matter what his brothers said sometimes, Michelangelo knew in his heart that he was helpful more often than not.

But Donatello had chosen to shut up, and drink who-knew-what for their sake, until he was a shell of himself.

A shell that had _still_ managed to save Raphael, because Donatello was there for them no matter what…

No matter what.

* * *

Splinter watched his family, and he knew that he had to talk. They needed reassurance that everything would be fine in the end, that Donatello would get back on his feet in no time - or in not too much time.

The only problem was that he had no idea if it was going to be the case.

His son, his precious son had shouldered alone a burden way too heavy for his years - right under his nose. What kind of a father was he? And what kind of a master, too, for not seeing the treachery of an enemy, a mistake that had costed them their home - again - and almost the lives of two of his children?

He hadn't been there for them, like he hadn't been there during most of the invasion. His sons had grown up so much during the last months, and he couldn't have been more proud of them - but he could also read the ghosts of their hardships in Michelangelo's and Leonardo's faces as they watched their unconscious brother.

He had failed them, like he had failed his daughter, all these years ago, and they had paid the price.

He couldn't even heal Donatello - his son's body was too weak to channel the mantras' power. He stroked his son's cheeks again, concentrating to prevent his hand from shaking. He desperately needed his rest, but he couldn't sleep - not when his son was between life and death. He would do what he could for him, as little as it was.

They needed Donatello more than ever - to save Donatello.

* * *

April was taking deep breathes, trying to focus on Donatello's spirit. He seemed to be there and not there, not as absent as Leonardo had been, when he was in a coma at the farm, but still not as close as he should have if he had been merely sleeping.

_Come back, _she was calling. _Come back, Donnie. We're waiting for you._

Even if she had no idea whether Donatello could hear her or not, she wasn't going to give up.

She couldn't do anything for her mother, but she wasn't a helpless little girl anymore - she could fight, like she had fought for her father when he had been captured, and mutated, and mutated again, and she would. Whether it was with her alien powers, with the new moves she was learning as a kunoichi-in-training, or with her sheer determination didn't matter.

_We're here, Donnie. Come back._


	11. Awakening

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who he was. He drifted in and out of consciousness, and his world was various shades of black and red.

"He's burning..."

Who was burning?

"He's moved! I've seen him!"

The voice was too loud. He wanted to tell it to be quiet. He had a feeling it wasn't the first time.

"It's the fever, Mikey."

"April, could you bring me a cloth and a basin of cold water, please?"

Familiar names, nagging at him. A lost battle.

Blackness engulfed him once more.

* * *

Another time, another voice. A feminine voice. He shifted, trying to turn towards it to better understand what it said.

"… he's becoming dehydrated, do you think we should… Donnie? Oh my gosh, Donnie, are you awake?"

He opened his mouth and closed it. Donnie. Was he Donnie?

It was a nice name, and said with much tenderness. He rather hoped he was Donnie.

"Let me help you. Here, can you drink?"

Warmth on his skin. He was helped forwards, tried to please the voice. It wanted him to drink. It seemed important. He should have thought it was important too, but he couldn't remember why.

"Take it easy, Donnie."

The cold liquid in his throat reminded him of something else. Pain. Danger.

He moaned.

"Hush, Donatello. It is alright."

Love. Comfort. Strength.

Darkness.

* * *

Everything ached. He wished to fall asleep again, to forget the pain and the aches in his muscles, but this time he was well awake.

Donatello opened his eyes tentatively. The light was too bright, and he quickly closed them again.

"Switch the lights off," he croaked.

Someone next to him gasped before yelling.

"Guys!"

Footsteps hurried to the room. The sounds were too sharp, and Donatello moaned.

"Shhhhhh," he mumbled, trying to express his feelings on the matter.

"Guys, he talked! He just talked! I think he's waking up!"

"Donnie?"

"Donatello!"

He felt strong and furry arms embrace him, and hid his face in his father's robe. Other arms coiled around his frame. Ten arms, to be precise.

"Too bright. Too loud," he expressed, his voice muffled by the familiar fabric.

"Of course, my son. Raphael, would you please switch off the bed lamp?"

"Sure thing, Sensei."

The light dimmed, and Donatello sighed in relief.

"How are you feeling, Donnie?"

Donatello considered this question. His body was yelling his pain and abuse at him. "Bad."

The atmosphere tensed considerably.

"Hurts," he added for good measure. "Head hurts. Arms hurt. Legs hurt. Shell doesn't hurt, because can't, but would if could. Toes hurt too."

He felt perplexity mix with the concern around him.

"Sensei, is he delirious?"

Donatello felt fingers caress his forehead.

"Hmm. The fever isn't entirely gone."

"Hurting is bad," he mumbled. "Don't want to hurt."

"Go back to sleep, my son. We'll watch over you."

"But can't sleep!" he moaned.

"Do you think we could give him pain medicine?"

"Yesssss," Donatello answered before anybody else could. "Gimmeeeee!"

Somebody chuckled. Soon he was handed a glass of bubbling water that tasted like dirt. He somehow managed to drink it without leaving the protection of Splinter's robe.

He felt shifting around him, and the mattress sank.

A voice trumpeted way too close to his ear. "Mikey, your feet are in the way, move..."

"Mmmm," Donatello grumbled.

The voice's owner lowered it considerably, until it was a mere whisper. A nonetheless very threatening whisper. "Move them before I do it for you."

Donatello smiled and drifted slowly to sleep.

* * *

Next time Donatello woke up, he felt much better. Which didn't mean he was feeling good - but enough cell brains in his head had decided to cooperate, so a coherent thought process was possible again.

He was lying in a comfy bed, a bed that wasn't his own. He frowned, trying to remember the recent events. He had been in the lair… preparing something…

Then reality caught up with him. He had been preparing himself for removing a bomb from Raphael. Another bomb had exploded, and they had no lair anymore.

Donatello jerked upwards, and felt his head protest against the harsh treatment. He winced and laid back.

"Wow, Donnie, take it easy!"

Someone was watching him with big baby-blue eyes.

"Hello, Mikey," he mumbled. "Where are we?"

Michelangelo engulfed him in a sprawling hug.

"Donnie!"

Donatello patted his brother's shell, wincing.

"Ouch."

"Sorry." Michelangelo released him with a sheepish smile. "I'm so happy you're awake, dude! We really thought you were last time, but no! You kept sleeping and sleeping! And…"

"Mikey, where are we?" Donatello massaged his temples.

"At April's. We're her guests, or more precisely, her dad's guest. He says we can stay as long as we want to, but I can tell that he already has enough of us. I mean, I understand. It's a small apartment, and…"

"We're at April's?" Donatello watched his brother, appalled. "But what if Irma finds us? We're putting her in danger!"

Michelangelo shook his head reassuringly. "Relax, Donnie. That's one of the first questions Leo asked Mr O'Neil. He rented the apartment under another name. He's paying in cash and the landlord didn't ask too many questions. Irma won't find us there."

"Oh." Donatello couldn't blame April's father for being paranoid. In fact, it was more realism than paranoia, considering the hectic last months. "Well, at least it buys us some time. Um… how long have I been out?"

"Three days."

Donatello winced.

"That long?"

"Yes. You've been in and out, but yesterday Splinter said you were out of danger. He's sleeping on the couch now, by the way. So you can rest better. He also says he's fine, but I think he hasn't recovered from the explosion. But he'll be thrilled to see you awake! In fact, everybody will be thrilled to see you! Which makes me think…"

Michelangelo yelled. "Guys! He's awake for real!"

Donatello smiled as the rest of his extended family hurried inside and hugged him. He made sure to shift a little so April had a good grasp on his shell.

"Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to sleep for so long."

"Nothing to worry about, Donnie," his brothers and Casey chorused as his father patted his arm and April hugged him tighter.

Donatello took a deep breath, and ended up in a coughing fit.

"Donnie, are you okay?" April asked with a concerned look.

"Yes… yes, of course. I'm just thirsty, that's all."

Donatello noticed a glass full of water on the night table, and took it, ignoring the suspicious looks of his brothers. His gaze wandered on Raphael's bandage. It looked as good as new, probably because it had been replaced recently. He pointed at it.

"Did it reopen? I did what I could with the stitches, but I wasn't at my best."

Raphael grinned sheepishly. "You were amazing, Donnie. Don't worry."

"It reopened," Michelangelo whispered. "Because he kept punching things."

"Mikey, shut up or I won't punch only things."

Donatello gave Raphael a look. "You're supposed to be careful, you know."

"Don't worry so much about me," Raphael grumbled. "I'm not the one who spent three days in bed, blabbering nonsense half the time."

Donatello blushed. "Sorry about that," he repeated.

"No problem, Donnie." Leonardo smiled at him before taking a step back to sit down more comfortably on the bed. "We were rather glad to hear you talk."

Michelangelo nodded emphatically. "And it's not like you kept saying how beautiful April was or something. No need to feel embarrassed, really."

Donatello blinked while Raphael nudged Michelangelo with a grimace, and he quickly decided to forget what he had just heard and not to look at April's face. Definitely not.

"So," Leonardo said hurriedly. "You might want to know that we haven't heard of Irma at all."

"Maybe she thinks we're dead," Michelangelo suggested hopefully.

Donatello hummed, grateful for the change of topic. "I wouldn't count on it, Mikey. At the very least she'll keep vigil. I can probably find her with my Kraang Tech Detector, if the satellite dish wasn't damaged. Leo, you did protect it, right?"

"Yes, Donnie. With the aluminum foil, exactly like you said."

Donatello nodded, satisfied. "Good. We can go check it, and then I…"

Splinter frowned. "You're going nowhere as long as you haven't fully recovered, my son," he cut him off.

Donatello made a face. "But Sensei!"

Splinter shook his head. "No. You need rest. Your body has been pushed to its limits and beyond. You're in no shape to be running on rooftops."

Donatello gave his brothers a pleading look. They looked away, indicating that he was on his own. The traitors. He would probably be on house arrest for years, and they wouldn't lift a finger to help him.

"Maybe we could check it for you?" Leonardo offered, watching something on the wall behind Donnie.

"Yes," Michelangelo agreed. "It'll be our pleasure!"

Raphael nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I've been confined here for too long - not that it's your fault or anything, Donnie," he quickly amended when he saw Donatello's guilty expression.

Donatello sighed. "Right. And I'll stay there and rest," he said, disgusted.

"Excellent idea!"

"You do that."

"See you, Dee!"

"I'm coming with you," Casey shouted.

"I'll stay with you, Donnie," April offered, and Donatello's mood brightened considerably.

Splinter smiled. "I won't be far. Call me if you need anything, my son."

"Yes, Father."

Splinter patted his shell and stood up, leaving his son in good hands.

* * *

"What you've done is truly incredible, Donnie."

Donatello shrugged, embarrassed. He had just related April most of the things that had happened, neatly leaving behind every consideration about his health, past and future. _Don't think about that._

"I had no other choice."

"Still." April sighed and put a hand on his arm. "By the way, I'm sorry about the lair."

Donatello looked away. Along with his childhood home, almost all his equipment had been lost. An equipment that he had gathered with the greatest difficulties. It _was_ painful to remember. "Yes."

"Do you think you'll be able to salvage some of your things?"

Donatello shrugged. From what he remembered, there wasn't a lot left of the lair.

"It's unlikely."

April was looking at him with such sadness that he felt the urge to cheer her up.

"Good news is, I have copies of my blueprints and all the experiment reports I did over the year. It's in the cloud, encrypted."

April's face lit up. "Oh. Then I guess all you need is a computer and an Internet connection. Do you want to borrow my laptop?"

Donatello grinned. "Now that would be nice. If you don't mind."

April grinned back. "Of course not."

She was quickly back with the instrument of Donatello's salvation, and he took it eagerly.

There. All his files were here. Every detail he needed to build a new lab - or even a new _lair_ \- from scratch. He sighed in relief, stroking the keyboard.

"Thank you, April."

"You're welcome." April's eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm glad I can help. It's not like I was particularly useful these last few days."

Donatello shook his head. "Oh, no! You've been very helpful, I'm sure! Your mere presence is helping me, I…" He realized what he was saying and shut up, embarrassed.

April was grinning. "You're welcome, Donnie."

* * *

When his brothers and Casey came back, reporting that the satellite dish didn't seem damaged and that they had taken away its aluminum protection, Donatello didn't have the heart to pretend to pout. He decided that he would check the signal later from April's laptop, and listened with interest as they told him about the city's state, careful not to show how drained he felt. He had worried his family enough as it was.

Apparently, the street lights weren't repaired everywhere, and they had stopped quite a few times to stop a robbery. Donatello kept a vigilant eye on Raphael, but the bandage on his brother's shoulder seemed clean. Maybe he had been careful.

It wasn't until a few hours later that he was left alone to sleep. Of course, he had no intention to do just that - too many thoughts he had to avoid, peace and quiet were the last things he wanted to face right now - and he stealthily grabbed April's laptop.

His hands were shaking so much that he couldn't type.

Donatello watched his fingers, clenching and unclenching them in the hope of breaking the pattern. To no avail.

Of course, there was another way…

_No, that's a bad idea. _Donatello tried to dismiss the thought, but it was persistent.

After all, if he took a small drop of Irma's vial, it couldn't hurt, right? Not when he hadn't drunk any of it in three days.

Unless, of course, it could hurt.

Donatello bit his lip. As the trembling in his fingers intensified, he took his decision. Reaching for his belt, put on a chair within reach from the bed, he searched for the vial.

It wasn't there.

"Donatello, what are you doing?"

Donatello straightened up guiltily. In the door's frame, Splinter was watching him with his arms crossed.

"You're supposed to be resting, my son."

Donatello wanted to tell his father that he was going to, but different words left his lips.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what, Donatello?"

"The vial!" Donatello felt ashamed of the urge that was bypassing his will. Still, he needed to see it, needed to drink from it.

"Ah. I was wondering when you would ask." Splinter sat on the edge of the bed. "We gave it to Doctor Rockwell. We thought he might help to heal you. He hasn't found anything yet, but…"

"I need it!"

Splinter raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have the proper equipment, and you're not…"

"I need it!" Donatello repeated, his lower lip quivering.

"What for, my son?" Splinter asked softly.

Donatello averted his eyes and lifted his hands. "They're shaking too much," he muttered. "I can't type."

Splinter gave him a look, probably pondering whether or not he should remind his son that he wasn't supposed to type, he was supposed to sleep.

"You do not know if using the vial would help."

Donatello proceeded to tie the blanket in nice little knots.

"Donatello?"

"Mmblmmblmmbl."

"I didn't hear you, my son." Splinter's tone was soft, but it held a warning that Donatello couldn't ignore.

He hung his head in shame.

"I know it would… I tried it. Right before I operated on Raph."

He heard a shocked gasp behind the door, and panic rose inside his chest.

"Who's there?" Splinter called, frowning.

There was no answer. When Splinter stood up and opened the door, nobody was there. Donatello could hear the TV in the living room nearby, and he had no doubt that his brothers were watching it - as he had no doubt that they hadn't been five seconds before.

Which meant that Raphael had heard what he wasn't supposed to hear, ever. Donatello wanted to retreat in his shell and hide in shame. As if he could feel it, Splinter shifted closer to him and embraced him.

"I'm sorry," Donatello whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, my son," his father whispered in his ear. "Nothing is your fault. On the contrary, you did wonders under extremely difficult circumstances. I'm proud of you, Donatello."

Donatello nodded, trying his best not to break down. He wished he could be proud of himself, too - but all he could feel was worry and shame.

Because even if he had only begun to drink from Irma's vial to save Raphael, he had apparently gotten used to it to the point that its absence was physically painful. Because if it had been within his reach right now, he would have taken a drop or even more of it without the slightest hesitation.

And because - and he only allowed himself to shape this thought because Splinter was holding him so tight it was almost safe - he didn't know if his body would ever recover from it.


	12. Frustrations

Donatello watched his reflection in the mirror, putting up a secret fight to keep his breathing even.

He didn't want to worry Michelangelo, who had lent him his graceful and necessary support all the way to the bathroom.

The mirror was a full-length mirror, from the unforgivable, cruel type that made him wonder why humans bought them in the first place. Because of it, Donatello couldn't miss that the white spots on his wrists had spread to his upper arms, or that his skin had considerably paled - with the notable exception of the dark rings under his eyes. He was also way skinnier than usual, as if his muscles had melted.

"You okay, Donnie?"

The concern in Michelangelo's voice was unmistakable, and Donatello shook himself up. "Well. Apart from the fact I look like the crossing of a zombie and a ghost - not that these things exist, mind you - I'm fine."

Putting words on it was a relief. He couldn't be in that bad a condition if he could joke about himself, right?

"Ghosts exist," Michelangelo objected. "And I'm pretty sure zombies exist too."

Donatello couldn't help notice that his brother hadn't contradicted him about the comparison. "It's a miracle I'm still standing," he muttered to himself.

Michelangelo nodded vigorously. "And I'm glad you do."

Donatello reluctantly detached his gaze from the mirror to give him a pale smile. None of his brothers or friends had brought up the delicate topic of his recovery yet, but they kept telling him how happy they were to see him awake.

Except Raphael, who had been nowhere to be seen since the day before. Donatello hadn't dared to ask about him. His family didn't seem too worried about him, so he must be fine.

He had to be.

* * *

Donatello couldn't sleep. He would doze a few minutes, then wake up and be unable to go back to sleep for half an hour. With a groan, he finally decided to go for a walk - inside the apartment, of course. Standing up, he left the room, leaning on his bō staff as if it was a cane.

Michelangelo, who was sleeping next to him, didn't stir.

Donatello avoided the living room where Splinter was resting, and didn't dare to knock on April's door in the middle of the night. He went for the hallway between the rooms, and soon recognized the arguing whispers of Raphael and Leonardo. Narrowing his eyes, he hid behind a corner to listen to their conversation.

"Easy for you to say!" Raphael's voice sounded bitter. "It's not because of you that he took that wretched substance! Have you seen him lately? How thin he is? How slow?"

Donatello grimaced.

"Of course I have!" Leonardo whispered back, his annoyance clearly coming through. Unless it was concern? "I'm not blind! But he's not stupid, he has noticed that you're avoiding him!"

Donatello heard a door close behind them and realized that they had entered the bathroom. He tiptoed closer, years of practice helping him to lean on his bō staff without making the slightest noise.

"… And that's not helping!" Leonardo was saying.

Donatello recognized the sound of a bandage being wrapped, and frowned. What exactly had Raphael been up to?

"It's helping me!" Raphael counterattacked. "I'm not going to stay confined there while Irma is free to go! Why do you refuse to hunt her down?"

"We need Donnie for that, it's not rocket science!"

Now Donatello heard scissors.

"And when is he going to fully recover, can you tell me that?" The ill-concealed fear in Raphael's voice broke Donatello's heart. "No, you can't. Because you have no idea!"

Leonardo's answer was so low that Donatello didn't catch the words, but Raphael let out a strangled cry.

"I'm not going to let her lay her filthy hands on me a second time, Leo, you can count on that. I'm going to destroy her! Ouch!"

"Sorry. But it's not easy to restitch someone who keeps moving, you know."

Donatello had heard enough. Straightening up, he opened the door to the immediate dismay of his two brothers.

"Donnie!" Leonardo glanced at the needle in his hand, obviously wishing he could have hidden it.

"Raph. Leo." Donatello managed to give his voice a cold and displeased undertone, which he was very proud of.

"How much did you hear?" Leonardo enquired. His sheepish expression clearly showed that he already guessed the answer.

On the other hand, Raphael wasn't even looking at him. Donatello crossed his arms around his staff.

"Long enough. Leo, could you please leave us?"

"Sure," Leonardo said hesitantly as Raphael's eyes filled with panic. "Let me just finish this."

In silence, he worked on Raphael's wound until it was stitched and bandaged, in such an impeccable way that it was impossible to see the difference with the previous bandage. Donatello wondered bitterly how many times Raphael had reopened his wound these last few days with Leonardo covering for him.

When Leonardo left the room, closing the door behind him, an uncomfortable silence stretched until Donatello felt too wobbly to remain standing, even with the help of his staff. Raphael noticed it and moved from the toilet's seat to the bathtub's edge.

Donatello nodded his thanks and sat down. He decided to speak his mind before he was too tired to think. "Raph, I'm really sorry."

This caught Raphael's attention. He raised his head to look at his brother, baffled. "Sorry about what?"

"I know you heard me talking to Splinter," Donatello went on, his throat dry. "It's not your fault if I needed the vial to operate on you. I'm sorry I wasn't able to…"

"Wow, Donnie, stop that nonsense! You did nothing wrong. It's me, I…" Raphael went quiet, searching for his words. "What she did to me… I can't believe I let her. I can't believe I don't even remember."

"It's not your fault. She might have used a sleep-inducing gas. And she had been spying on us. And well, she used a syringe, it must have been a quick process. I don't know if she sank it at random or if she used medical imaging, but…" Donatello realized that Raphael's face had turned very pale and stopped, his face enquiring.

Raphael shook his head. "Thank you, Donnie, thank you very much, but I really don't need that level of detail," he said wryly. He crossed his arms and glared at the wall in front of him.

Donatello didn't dare to talk in case he upset his brother more.

After a while, Raphael rubbed his face, clearly tired. "Listen, Donnie, I'm sorry you had to go through all this, okay? And we're not even sure that you… I don't want you to…"

"You don't want me to what?" Donatello prompted him.

But Raphael had obviously had enough talking for the day. "Nothing. You've done enough for me, okay? Take some rest."

Donatello narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but Raphael said no more.

* * *

Leonardo was waiting for him in the hallway. When Donatello came out, he outstretched his arms in a gesture of peace. "I didn't eavesdrop. Promise."

Donatello glared at him a few seconds longer for good measure before allowing Leonardo to support him on the way back to his bedroom.

"So. Everything alright between you and Raph?"

Donatello rolled his eyes. "I guess so."

"Good. I don't think the first-aid kit could take much more."

Donatello shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me about it? Or anybody else, for that matter." As his brother opened his mouth to answer, he went on. "And don't say that you didn't want to worry me, or I'll hit you with this bō staff on the spot."

"Theeen I won't say anything."

Donatello grunted.

Leonardo sighed. "Donnie, is there any way I can help you? I won't be able to cook you any foul-tasting medicine, but if you have other ideas…"

Donatello couldn't help smiling at the memory. "Don't feel bad. That's probably better that way."

Leonardo let out a strangled chuckle. "Yeah. Right."

Donatello walked in silence for a few more steps before talking again. "And what have _you _been up to?"

Leonardo shrugged. "Planning. Scouting for new places to live in. Trying to convince Raph not to rush into a trap."

"Stitching. Worrying," Donatello completed.

"Like you see, nothing out of the ordinary." A small smile played on Leonardo's lips.

"Any luck with the scouting?" Donatello asked, curious.

"Not so much. Any wishes for our new home?"

Donatello thought about it. "Well, I would like something wide enough so I can experiment to my heart's content without hearing complaints about the noise, or the smell, or the explosions."

"We'll try to find this rare gem. No promises about the complaining part, though. Especially in regard to said explosions." Leonardo raised an eye ridge.

Donatello smiled. "Fair enough."

Right before they reached his bedroom, he turned more serious. "And what about Irma? Raph is right, you know. I mean, not that I want him to rush into a trap. But she's dangerous."

"I know. I'm especially concerned about the fact Raph doesn't remember anything. That's why we need you onboard before we try anything against her."

"I'll do my best," Donatello whispered.

* * *

The next morning was a difficult one. Donatello had a headache, and his hands wouldn't stop trembling, which made using April's laptop impossible.

He was thinking more and more about the vial, and how it would feel to swallow some of its content, and how his body would respond like it used to…

He was conscious that his mind was playing tricks on him, of course. But that knowledge wasn't helping him, and nothing Michelangelo did to cheer him up could either.

In the end, he decided to call Dr Rockwell and ask him to bring the vial back, under the pretext of wanting to talk to him about his own experiments with it. He asked Michelangelo to ask Kirby for coffee, and quickly dialed Rockwell's number while his brother was gone. Rockwell immediately answered his phone, and categorically refused, deeming the vial's content too volatile and dangerous, and pointing that if Donatello had survived days without it, then his body could learn to work without it again.

Donatello almost threw the phone across the room in anger, and he would certainly have if Michelangelo hadn't come back with the coffee, and Kirby.

"Michelangelo told me that you could use some company," Kirby offered. "Besides, coffee tastes better with other people."

Donatello shrugged. As his plan had failed, he could as much enjoy the coffee.

Kirby put it on the bed, and added a giant straw so Donatello wouldn't have to hold the mug. Donatello looked at his shaking hands in shame, but there was nothing he could do about it right now.

The coffee tasted good, and Donatello had to acknowledge that Kirby's conversation was good too. Michelangelo, who had another opinion about it entirely, left them fifteen minutes later in the middle of a heated discussion about quantum physics to play videogames.

"And that's why I don't think quantum entanglement will allow teleportation," Donatello finished.

Kirby nodded. "I agree with you, Donatello. You really have a brilliant mind."

Donatello smiled. "Thank you, Mr. O'Neil. And thank you for your help, too. I don't know what we would have done without you."

Kirby smirked. "Don't worry about it. My daughter seems to like you very much."

Donatello blushed. Hard. "She does?" Then he sighed. "I hate that she has to see me like this." He averted his eyes. "I don't know what to do. I can't help thinking about the vial all the time - I had no idea that it would be such a drug. Not that it would have changed anything."

Kirby nodded. "I understand. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my daughter. But maybe you could ask for your family's help?" he suggested. "It seems likely to me that they would do anything for you too."

"Hmm," Donatello mused. "They don't really have medical knowledge. But maybe…" He crossed his arms. "Mr. O'Neil, can I ask you for something?"

"Of course, Donatello."

* * *

Donatello stood tall and proud in front of his whole family, his left hand firmly grabbing his bō staff. His right hand was pointing a stick at his new masterpiece, drawn on the whole area of a paper board - courtesy of Mr. O'Neil.

"Is that a flow chart?" Casey whispered, looking baffled. "Why did he make a flow chart?"

"Of course he made a flow chart," Michelangelo whispered back. "Everything important in Donatello's life has to be flow-charted. It's a rule."

Donatello cleared his throat. "Thank you for coming. I've been giving this a lot of thought…" He pointedly ignored the amused glances his brothers exchanged. "…And I do mean, more than usual. As in 'I don't have anything else to do'. Because people here don't want to let me out."

"Indeed." Splinter nodded, unfazed by his son's accusation.

Michelangelo tilted his head to better read the flow chart's title, written in capital letters on the right border. "Donnie's… withdrawal?"

Donatello nodded curtly. "It has become obvious that what I've been drinking contained a drug of some sort, which induced an unwelcome dependency inside my brain. And my body. I'm counting on you to help me fix that."

"Of course, Donnie," Leonardo immediately said. "Just tell us what to do."

"It's easy." Donatello pointed the stick at the upper part of the chart. "Follow this chart closely."

His family came closer in order to decipher said chart.

Raphael raised his eye ridges. "Why does it have a solution ready for the case where you build an airplane to fly out of this apartment?"

"You never know," Donatello answered with great dignity. "The point is, don't let me come anywhere close to that vial as long as my body isn't fully independent of it." He had deliberately left out of this particular chart the case where his body never did. They would cross that bridge when - and if - they would come to it. "Also…" He took a deep breath. "I'm going to hate you for it. Nothing personal, don't take it wrong."

To his surprise, it didn't seem to upset his family. Raphael even offered him a smile. "Don't worry about it, Donnie. I rarely listen to what you say anyways."

"This is such a relief," Donatello said wryly.

And somehow, he meant it. It felt good to take charge of his own destiny again.

* * *

His family's endurance was tested no later than four hours later, when Donatello's treacherous brain finally decided to sneak out to see Dr Rockwell and the vial he currently had in his possession.

Or more precisely, and because he was in no shape to go anywhere alone, he guilt-tripped Michelangelo into accompanying him.

Their plan was flawless. They waited until the middle of the night. Alone in the bedroom they shared, they came closer to the window - it led to a neat fire escape - and opened it.

Which is when Donatello had the uneasy feeling that they weren't alone anymore, and knew he was busted even before he heard Leonardo's distinctive cough. The lights switched on, and sure enough, Leonardo, Raphael and April were there, grim expressions on their faces.

"Mikey, no." Leonardo crossed his arms.

"But he said he needed it!" Michelangelo, who had been grabbing Donatello's arm in support, tightened his grip as if _he _was the one needing the support now.

"He told us not to yield, remember?" Raphael shook his head.

"Raph, he looked so sad!"

Donatello nodded to emphasize how sad he had looked.

"You can't give in so easily," Leonardo went on, unfazed.

"What was I supposed to do, then?" Michelangelo watched them with big, unhappy puppy-dog eyes.

"You follow the chart. I'll show you." Raphael cracked his knuckles and carefully approached Donatello. He lifted him with ease. "You bring him back to his bed, like this."

Donatello hammered on his brother's shell, furious. "Put me down!"

"As you wish." Raphael gently, delicately lay Donatello down on his plastron, and gently, delicately sat down on him.

"That's not what I meant." Donatello crossed his arms and pouted.

Raphael patted his shell in a very self-satisfied way. "I know."

Michelangelo still looked sad. "I just want him to get better."

"We all do, Mikey." April put an arm around his shoulders. "And that's why we're doing this."

Still sitting on Donatello's shell, Raphael nodded gravely.

Leonardo sighed. "How long?" he asked, taking in Donatello's determined expression.

Raphael shrugged. "If I believe his own chart, three weeks."

Leonardo sighed again.

* * *

In the sewers near the turtles' former lair, a robotic shadow was pacing.

There had been no indication of the turtles' whereabouts for days - but Kraang Subprime, aka Irma, couldn't believe that they had all died in their lair's explosion. They were too difficult to eradicate, like a particularly resistant species of cockroaches.

Even the case of the denominated Raphael was uncertain. Kraang Subprime had triggered the bomb he had implanted inside him, but due to a whim of this world's star, the Sun, he couldn't be sure that the signal had been received.

It didn't matter. He knew they would come, sooner than later, and he would be ready for them.

And then he could look for the final results of his little experiment by dissecting Donatello's body.


	13. Back to Business

Donatello tapped away at the control panel of the Shellraiser, his expression grim. On the screen in front of him, five colored dots were progressing through a complex map in black and white, representing the city's sewers.

He took a look at his father, who was driving in silence. He wondered if he should try to tell him something - but he had apologized so many times he had lost count. Not that everybody didn't keep telling him that it wasn't his fault; he just felt compelled to.

And now he was hiding behind the scenes while his brothers, April and Casey hunted Irma down in the sewers. He knew it was the sensible thing to do - this way, he wouldn't faint from exhaustion at the worst possible time - but he still felt sidelined.

However, they couldn't afford to wait any longer. If the vial held no appeal anymore for Donatello, it had become clear that the damage it had done was not so easily reversible.

If reversible at all.

Donatello's mind wandered back to the day when he had finally accepted that truth, and told his family.

He remembered the anguish on their faces, right before they controlled their facial expressions again. Yes, anguish - but also a lack of surprise, as if they had feared it all along.

* * *

It was three days after Donatello had been deemed independent from the vial's content. It was a relief for everyone not to have to watch him constantly. Donatello knew he had been a very difficult patient. Splinter was the only one he hadn't tried to get around, and his father couldn't be on watching duty 24/7. Especially not as he was still recovering.

But his family had managed to keep him from doing anything stupid, and after twenty-four escape attempts, including twelve failed tries at destroying the apartment walls, they had finally declared victory.

Now that Donatello's mind was free to focus on other matters again - namely, what the vial had done to his body - he had talked to Dr. Rockwell for hours, asking him to conduct a few more experiments and sharing assumptions and deductions.

The results weren't encouraging. Whichever way they looked at it, it seemed that there was no way to reverse any effects the vial had on living organisms.

When Donatello had confided in his father, Splinter had tried to use the Healing Hands on him - to no avail. Whatever substance was damaging Donatello's body from the inside wasn't recognized by his organism as a foreign body, and therefore couldn't be expelled like the poison it was.

Donatello had buried his rising panic deep inside and told his family and friends that he wished to talk to them. They had gathered in his room within minutes, even Raphael and Casey who hadn't been inside the apartment.

"I won't get any better," Donatello had explained, his voice steady. His hands would have been shaking if he hadn't pressed them together so tight. "And I'll probably get worse. There is something in the vial that reacts with muscle mass and slowly destroys it."

He hadn't given them any more details, like the fact that sooner or later it would make breathing impossible.

"Are you sure?" Leonardo had asked anxiously.

"We're sure. If there are components which can cancel this, they're not from our world."

"Then we find Irma and make her talk," Raphael had said, fists clenching so hard that his joints had whitened.

"And if we can't make her?"

Michelangelo's face had been heartbreaking to watch. Donatello would have loved to tell him that everything would be okay - but he couldn't find it in his heart to lie to him.

"That vial comes from somewhere. We find that place and search it until we have our answers," Leonardo had replied.

No one had asked about what would happen if they didn't.

* * *

Donatello leaned back on his seat and pressed one button to talk to the able-bodied team, the one who took action.

"Go right at the next intersection," he instructed, trying to keep his frustration to himself.

"Thanks, Donnie."

Leonardo's soft voice didn't give any hint that something was amiss. It might have been an ordinary mission, with Donatello running an errand of some kind before meeting the others. It wasn't even the first time that one of them was running out of time. He remembered when Michelangelo, in a move that only his brother had refused to call stupid, had applied a product containing mutagen on his skin. Or when Raphael had been poisoned, and Donatello had created a cure for him on the battlefield.

They had made it through, every single time. He had to trust the formidable team they made together.

Donatello rubbed his eyes, tired, and coughed discreetly to avoid worrying his father even more.

* * *

_April was sitting on her bed, legs against her chest, holding a picture frame. Donatello sat down next to her._

_The woman on the picture was beautiful. She was smiling with determination at the photographer, in a way very similar to April's, and held a baby in her arms._

"_It's your mom?" Donatello asked, feeling rather stupid. He recognized that woman; she looked exactly like the Kraang-creature who had tried to kill him and his brothers in Northampton._

_April nodded. "It's hard, you know. Not knowing what happened to her. How she died."_

_Donatello felt at a loss for words. He didn't know how to comfort a teenage girl whose mother had been abducted by aliens when she was only six. Besides, he felt unqualified to talk about mothers - he only had a father, after all. He put an awkward arm around April's shoulders, half-expecting her to shrug it off._

_She didn't. When she looked back at him, her gaze was fierce._

"_The Kraang took my mother away from me. I won't let them do the same to you. We'll find a cure for you, Donnie. Promise me you'll hold on until then."_

"_Promise," Donatello whispered, although he knew it wasn't something he had the power to decide._

_For her, he would fight Fate itself._

* * *

"Donnie, we're arriving within sight of the pumping station."

Leonardo's words snapped Donatello out of his memories. He shook himself. It was no time for daydreaming; he had a job to do, as frustrating as it was.

He switched the infrared camera on. On the screen, a sewer tunnel appeared. From the shapes walking inside it, he could deduce that April was the one carrying the camera.

Donatello waited in anticipation as they turned around the corner to reach what had to be Irma's lair.

Finding where to go hadn't been very difficult. Donatello had activated the Kraang Tech Detector amplified by its new satellite dish, and found an area where Irma was likely to hide. On an old map of the sewers, he had determined three possible locations for a hidden lair. They had already checked the first two.

The pumping station came into view. The infrared camera only showed differences in temperature; he couldn't use a normal one because they weren't using any lights to avoid being detected.

Donatello knew there were probably sensors around Irma's hideout, if he hadn't been mistaken in his calculations and the pumping station truly was her hideout. He was certain Leonardo was aware of it too. Once again, Donatello wished he was there with them - he could have looked for alarms, deactivated traps…

Granted, he _had _caused a blackout so any alarm or trap would have to be triggered by a different energy source. It wasn't going to make things better for the city's electrical network, especially in its current state - the damage caused by the magnetic storm hadn't been repaired everywhere, far from it - but Donatello couldn't have cared less.

Things being as they were, he had done everything he could and his brothers, April and Casey were on their own.

On the image transmitted by the camera, all Donatello could see were the warm shapes of his family in red and the cold mass of water below in deep blue. No Irma in sight.

"So you came."

Donatello's heart skipped a beat. The image moved frenetically to show the whole pumping station - April must have been moving around - but the owner of that voice remained invisible.

"Show yourself, coward!" Raphael shouted.

From the sound of his voice, Donatello had no doubt that he was on the verge of losing his cool. He winced.

Irma didn't answer him. "Where is your brother?" she said instead, her voice full of malice.

Raphael breathed hard. Slowly, threateningly. Donatello could picture him finding his center, waiting for a good opportunity to unleash his fury.

"He's made impressive progress," Splinter whispered in his ear.

Donatello almost started. Caught up in the scene on the screen, he hadn't realized that his father had parked the Shellraiser and left the driver's seat. He quickly muted the microphone on their side so everybody - potentially including Irma - didn't hear this conversation.

Splinter put a hand on Donatello's shoulder, his eyes still on the screen. "But I shouldn't be surprised. You've all become very powerful fighters."

"Right now, I can't really fight, Sensei," Donatello objected sadly. He could move efficiently enough, but he was much slower than usual, making him an easy target for any trained enemy.

"You are, though, Donatello. Against a very insidious enemy."

Before Donatello could ask him what this enemy was - he had a feeling it would be something like 'despair' or 'fear', his father was fond of such convoluted words of comfort - the screen in front of them went black.

"Guys!" Donatello called in the microphone. "Guys?"

Nobody answered.

Splinter frowned. With difficult steps, he went back to the front of the Shellraiser.

"Now we have to wait and trust your brothers to come back to us safely. This is one of the hardest duties of… Donatello?"

The rest of his father's sentence was lost to Donatello as he exited the truck by the opening in its roof, his weakened muscles protesting against the effort.

"Don't worry, Sensei, I'll only come close enough to get the transmission working again," he shouted. "I'll be right back!"


	14. Dire Times Indeed

Donatello was progressing with infuriating slow speed through the sewer tunnels. He had hoped to catch the transmission again as soon as he would be underground, but it wasn't working. Something must be interfering with it.

That something, of course, could only be Irma.

Donatello stopped to catch his breath, his fists clenching. Had his brothers and friends entered some kind of trap? Were they already fighting for their lives? For _his _life?

He needed to know what was happening to them. Staying in the backstage was acceptable only as long as he could still be of some kind of help. Otherwise, he was just torturing himself with grim possibilities and hopeless scenarios.

Gritting his teeth, he set into motion again.

* * *

Leonardo watched his surroundings anxiously. He couldn't say he was surprised; if he had been an alien in exile, having just lost a war, of course he would have monitored and trapped his hideout. This whole plan had been risky, bordering on pure madness. But Donatello… It was plain obvious that he was running out of time, and Leonardo's choices hadn't been particularly pleasant.

The mere thought of his brother, looking way too thin and way too sick, renewed his determination. They needed to find a cure for him, and find a cure they would. Even if they had to dismantle this pumping station brick by brick.

Donatello would have found a better way to proceed, of course, but they had lost their connection to the Shellraiser and the infrared camera was dead. If he remembered correctly his science lessons and his brother's ramblings, it must be because the area was electromagnetically shielded.

The darkness was inscrutable, and Leonardo had to rely on his other senses. He wondered if he should switch on a light. It was obvious that Irma could see them, so they had no advantage staying in the dark.

"I don't see poor Donatello," Irma's voice was saying. The sound reverberated across the room, and he couldn't pinpoint a location.

"I'm going to reduce her to pieces," Raphael whispered next to him. "Then I'll burn them, then I'll stomp on them, then I'll pee on them…"

"Shh, Raph." Not that Leonardo disagreed with his brother, but he needed to listen. "April?"

"I sense her," April whispered, her voice tense. "She's nearby."

"Which direction?"

"I'm not sure." April's frustration was obvious. "Below?"

"Then let's try to find a way down." Leonardo took his decision. "Use your flashlights."

The group quickly complied, and soon the room was lit by five luminous beams.

Allowing everybody to see that Irma stood right in front of them.

* * *

Donatello reached the pumping station without problem. The walls near the entrance were full of infrared captors, meaning that Irma had indeed been aware of his family's progression. He deactivated them, his heart heavy. The transmission still wasn't working, so he had no way of knowing what was happening inside.

He stood still for a moment, breathing in and out as evenly as he could. What should he do now? He could go back to the Shellraiser, of course, being none the wiser and his heart heavy with anxiety.

It was the safest decision to make.

Or…

Or he could turn around that last corner, and take a look - a single look, just to make sure that Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, April and Casey had the situation well in hand.

A single look couldn't hurt, right?

Donatello allowed a grim smile to play on his lips. Who was he trying to fool? Only one of these two possibilities was acceptable for him.

* * *

Michelangelo tightened his grip on his nunchucks. He knew that he looked nothing like the joker and prankster and easy-going turtle he usually was.

He was determined.

Irma was the key to his brother's healing, he knew it. And now she was taunting them, asking about Donatello's whereabouts and standing right there…

Not for long, not if he had anything to say about it. The gross alien inside Irma's chest was going to regret he ever laid a hand on his brothers.

"Okay, guys, be careful," Leonardo whispered. "It looks like it's a t…"

Michelangelo didn't pay attention to the end of Leonardo's sentence and jumped forwards, eager to end this whole nightmare. "Booyakasha!"

"Mikey!" Leonardo exclaimed, his voice half-concerned and half-irritated.

Michelangelo made a note to apologize to his leader later, and circled around Irma, his nunchaku already transformed into a kusarigama. He threw the chain to capture her, and it clang against her robotic body.

"Got you!" he exclaimed, ferocious. "Now how are you going to transform, uh?"

"No, Mikey, she's not Irma," April shouted.

Michelangelo blinked at her.

"April, April." Irma's voice sighed. "Don't spoil my fun like that."

Irma-who-wasn't-Irma's belly opened in front of Michelangelo, letting a cannon show. The walls around them did the same, showing that Irma had taken particular care to prepare for them.

Michelangelo watched the display of weaponry.

"Oops."

* * *

Donatello sneaked inside just in time to witness the beginning of the cannonade. Lasers and blasts in quick succession colored the room, its pipes and its motors, and a pool of sewer water below. Donatello's eyes narrowed to slits as he saw his brothers and friends jump and dance to avoid the firing.

He distinctly saw Raphael find the time to glare at Michelangelo, though. Donatello couldn't be sure why, but he had his suspicions.

Hiding behind a particularly big motor, he assessed the situation. There was an Irma participating in the attack, but she had one cannon instead of an alien in her chest. A robot decoy. His brothers and friends were providing the perfect distraction for him to look for the real Irma. It would be a shame not to use it. Everybody with the slightest logical mind would see that.

Being careful not to be seen - he had a feeling the others would strongly object to his presence here - he moved across the pipes, searching for a hint about Irma's whereabouts. He was browsing through the hundred possibilities his mind was helpfully providing when an amplified voice talked over the roar of the battle.

"This is so moving. All this for me?"

It took Donatello's brilliant, genius mind two whole seconds to realize it was his own voice speaking.

"Donnie?" Michelangelo exclaimed, baffled.

How dare she? Donatello thought, infuriated. He almost answered it wasn't him, but he managed to restrain himself. Whatever wicked plan Irma had in mind, she was bound to be entirely absorbed in it. She wouldn't be expecting him. If only he could decide where to start…

"It's true I would probably do the same for you," the false Donatello's voice went on. "Because I'm a stupid mutant turtle with stupid human feelings!"

"I don't think it's Donnie," Casey pointed out.

"You bet," Raphael grumbled. "Another thing Irma will answer for!"

Donatello hadn't doubted it, but he still felt comforted that his brothers could see the difference. Now where was he? Ah yes, Irma. Maybe she was in the walls - but there must not be much room inside. Or in another place entirely? No, Kraang Subprime wouldn't be able to resist close combat - on his own terms, of course. Which left the water. Donatello remembered the Technodrome, and how well it would perform underwater…

There was no place for a Technodrome in this pumping station, but maybe something smaller? It was worth a try.

Donatello noticed a ladder on the opposite wall, and decided to use it to go downstairs and near the pool.

"Just listen to what I did for you," the false Donatello's voice was going on. "For you I drank something I never should have drunk! And what did it do to me?"

Donatello froze, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Then the false voice began to read aloud the reports he had sent to Irma.

* * *

Raphael would have been unable to say how long the fight had already lasted. The Irma decoy was firing everywhere, as did the walls, but if he had been avoiding the firing for minutes or hours he couldn't say.

He was jumping and sliding mechanically, focusing on what the synthetic voice said. It mimicked Donatello's voice fairly well, and while the illusion wasn't perfect it was still extremely unsettling.

Not to mention what it was saying.

"The nausea started six hours and thirty-two minutes after I took the drop. It began in the pit of my stomach and went back up in waves…"

In Raphael's close surroundings, Casey let out a disgusted little sound. Raphael ignored it, his heart filling with a blank fury.

"The dizziness came back. I almost lost my footing. It seems that the substance is interfering with my sense of balance…"

He knew Irma was playing with him, but it didn't help him to put things into perspective. His brother had been suffering. For days. Alone. Because he wanted to save him.

He managed to jump behind the Irma decoy and tore it to pieces, leaving only the cannon intact. He took it and used it to fire at the walls. Pieces of cement fell from the ceiling.

"Raph, stop! It's going to collapse on us!" Leonardo shouted, and Raphael reluctantly threw the cannon away.

Not-Donatello was still talking. "The spots are spreading like evil mushrooms on my skin…"

"I recognize that part," Michelangelo whispered, crushed. "I wrote it with Donnie."

"Let's take cover," Leonardo instructed, his voice almost-but-not breaking. "Across the motors on the other side of the room. The cannons aren't firing there."

Raphael did so on autopilot. Where was Irma, the real Irma? He knew their true fight would be with her.

* * *

Donatello couldn't begin to imagine how his family must feel right now. His reports had been highly detailed, describing his nausea, dizziness, tiredness.

He felt sick just thinking about it.

Hurrying to the ladder - or at least trying to hurry - he went down and reached the pool of sewer water. Without a sound, he slid into it. The water barely made a ripple.

It wasn't as cold as he had imagined. He could even see shapes below, thanks to the regular laser blasts. The warmth seemed to be coming from a particular point. Taking his grappling hook, he aimed at it and fired. It held, and Donatello let himself be carried to a metallic surface that felt a lot like Kraang alloy.

His heard beating faster in anticipation, he looked for an entrance.

* * *

April was trying her best to ignore the horrible words this false Donatello was saying - they rang true, didn't they? Was this what Donatello's experience had been? This stupid, stupid mutant. Her mutant. What had he been thinking? - to focus on Irma.

Irma who had been her friend. How she could not realize that Irma was, in fact, a Kraang Subprime, she didn't know. The guilt she carried for bringing her to the lair and starting the invasion was still there, no matter how hard she tried to forgive herself.

There… She felt something below, something cold and uncaring. In… the water?

As she opened her mouth to warn the others, she felt another presence, warm and determined. A presence she would have recognized everywhere.

She almost choked.

"Guys! We need to…"

A psychic wave caught her unaware. She couldn't end her sentence - the pain was too much… unbearable…

She collapsed without a cry.

* * *

Donatello had found a way to slid inside the structure. It wasn't a smooth surface - it looked like Irma had built her hideout with spare parts of the Technodrome and Kraang droids - and there was a kind of airlock on the side.

He expected to see Irma inside the rounded aperture filled to the brim with empty Irma robots and panels covered in pink and pale blue buttons shining brightly, but it was empty.

He hurried to the panels and was quick to find how to deactivate the electromagnetic shield. With a satisfied smile, he established a connection between his T-Phone and the Shellraiser. Now he could try to hack the main operating system.

A window opened on his T-Phone screen, showing that somebody was trying to communicate with him from the Shellraiser. Biting his lip, he accepted the call.

"Hi, Master Splinter," he said matter-of-factly.

"Donatello! Where are you? Are you alright?"

His father's voice was so tense that Donatello winced.

"Inside Irma's lair, I would say," Donatello answered in a small but determined voice.

"And you would be right."

Donatello tensed before taking in a resigned breath. He hadn't expected that voice, but he couldn't say that he was surprised, either. It was Kraang Subprime's voice, not Irma's - and sure enough, when he turned around, the infamous alien was smirking at him from the mini-ship he used to move when he wasn't inside a robotic body.

Maybe not making his presence known to his brothers and friends hadn't been such a good idea after all.


	15. Refusing to Go Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I was finally able to finish that chapter. Yay!_
> 
> _Previously on this fic: _
> 
> _Instead of staying put in the Shellraiser like the clever turtle he's supposed to be, Donatello decided that a solo and secret mission inside Irma's hideout was the way to go. Now he's facing Irma, aka Kraang Subprime._
> 
> _Oh, and his father knows._

"Don't you know it's rude to come in uninvited?" Kraang Subprime said, his tentacles pushing the levers on his mini-space ship.

Donatello was quite unsurprised when he found himself in front of a dangerous-looking cannon. He made a quick calculation to determine whether or not he could crash the Kraang against the wall before his opponent fired, and concluded that the odds were rather against him.

"You don't look so good," Kraang Subprime added with obvious happiness.

In other circumstances, Donatello could have appreciated the fact that this alien was probably the only Kraang educated enough to tell the difference between a healthy-looking mutant turtle and, well, him.

Of course, in the present circumstances he would rather have faced an uneducated good old Kraang droid.

"Donatello?" Splinter was saying through the phone. Donatello quickly muted it but didn't cut the communication - maybe it would be useful later to have a recording of the upcoming conversation. He felt sorry for his father, but refused to let the thought break his focus.

Besides, it was better if Kraang Subprime didn't pay too much attention to his phone. Donatello had just launched a nice spying program inside the alien software in the control panels, and it would have been a shame not to let it do its work.

"Nice hideout," he told his enemy, slowly turning around to show the whole room. He was, of course, hoping to make Kraang Subprime speak. It was the most obvious trick in the book, but the alien was crazy enough that it might work. And besides, it allowed him to take another look at his surroundings. Maybe the control panels had an emergency button that he might use when he would be done here?

_Too bad Mikey isn't there_, he mused. If such a button existed, his brother would have found it in seconds without even meaning to.

"It's not that bad," Subprime answered. Too narrow to my taste, but as you know, we're short of a Technodrome at the moment."

"Speaking of which, you never told me how you managed to come back so soon after our last battle," Donatello went on, his tone calm and relaxed as if this was a casual conversation with an old acquaintance and not buying time to save himself from a deadly enemy.

Kraang's Subprime ferocious eyes narrowed.

"It's amazing what you can do with proper science. Don't you agree?"

Donatello nodded. "Are you a scientist yourself?" he said, his eyes still scanning the room. Why did the Kraang never labelled their emergency procedures like civilized aliens? "Your Irma body is very impressive."

To Donatello's surprise, a shadow passed across Subprime's brainy face, as if he didn't consider it as a compliment.

"Not exactly," the alien answered slowly. "But scientists are useful and I know how to use their talent." He smirked again. "Although I might make an exception for you and handle your dissection myself."

Donatello grimaced at hearing Subprime's plan. The Kraang definitely had an unhealthy liking for dissecting other species. "I don't think it'll be necessary. You know, my body might be a little damaged right now, but I'm still very attached to it. I'll let it heal on it own, thank you very much."

From the corner of his eye, he saw that his program had been successful and managed to retrieve some information. He couldn't wait to read what it was, but now really wasn't the right time.

He waited for his enemy's reply, his heart beating. Was the Kraang going to laugh at him and tell him it wasn't possible? Donatello needed to learn as much as he could about the vial's purpose.

"Oh, the turtle wants to keep his body!" Subprime laughed. "Too bad it's not going to happen. But don't worry, your generous gift will help me win the war."

Donatello's eyes widened. Did he still hope to conquer Earth after everything that had happened?

"I can't say it has been a pleasure to meet you again, turtle, but at least it's over now."

Having had enough of the conversation, Kraang Subprime pushed another lever on his mini-ship. A light blue fire lit inside the cannon. Donatello wisely decided not to wait to know whether it was meant to kill or stun, and quickly retreated inside his shell. He winced as said shell hit the floor and slid on it. The shocks were reverberating on his limbs in a rather unpleasant way.

The cannon fired its blue laser at the exact place where Donatello had stood half a second before. Kraang Subprime swore. The turtle slid next to an empty Irma robot - one of Subprime's many spares - and let an arm out to grab its leg. He made it fall on the ground, sending several other robot spares with it.

Donatello was a little surprised that those robots hadn't been tied more securely to the wall, before a blue beam missed him by inches and he realized that the laser was ricocheting in the room and hitting buttons at random on the panels.

Soon pink lights and a screeching alarm told Donatello that there had been an emergency button after all. When cracks appeared on the walls and water began to pour through them, Donatello dared to come out of his shell. Kraang Subprime was hurrying inside the closest Irma robot to take cover. Donatello clutched the new Irma's waist and held his breath.

He ignored Irma's protests and clang for dear life as she swam through the water. The adrenaline was doing him wonders, but it wasn't going to last. He wondered idly how he was going to escape her once they would be on land again. And more importantly, what was he going to tell the others?

Considering the circumstances, he had very little hope that they wouldn't notice his presence.

* * *

As Donatello and a very mad and very soaked Irma burst out of the pool and flew upwards, four baffled figures immediately stopped in their fight to watch them.

Donatello looked at them anxiously. A few lasers were firing at random, but his family had obviously done a good job destroying most of them. Neither Leonardo, nor Raphael, nor Michelangelo, nor Casey seemed hurt, which was an appreciated change.

Then he frowned. Where was April?

His high position gave him a good view over the pumping stating, and he quickly took in the unconscious shape lying behind a pipe.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted, forgetting that he didn't want to attract Irma's attention more than was strictly necessary.

"She was interfering again," Irma shouted back. "My new anti-April defenses are working like a charm, don't you think?"

She set foot on the ground and spun, forcing Donatello to let go. The turtle winced and retreated in his shell once more. His body was responding way too slowly to allow him to do anything else before he hit a pipe or the wall.

The shock never came, though, and Donatello realized that somebody had caught him.

"Donnie!" a very well-known voice shouted. "What the shell are you doing here?"

"Hi, Raph," Donatello answered with deep relief, coming out of his shell once more. "I found Irma, see?"

His brother didn't seem as happy about this as he could have been, if you asked Donatello.

"Donnie, are you crazy? You were supposed to stay in the Shellraiser! With Splinter!"

"Donnie, Raph, behind you!" Leonardo's voice shouted, interrupting Raphael's rant.

Both turtles moved to take cover behind the pipes, Raphael's hand firmly around Donatello's arm. A pink laser beam missed them by inches. They ran until they were next to the unconscious April.

"Donnie, I'm so glad to see you!" Michelangelo jumped in front of them and hugged his brother while Raphael was hurrying to Irma, a dangerous expression on his face. "But weren't you supposed to stay out of this one?"

"He was." Leonardo, who had just joined them, glared at Donatello.

"How is April?" Donatello asked him anxiously, blatantly ignoring the glare.

"She's not injured as far as I can tell." Leonardo shook his head. "Stay with her while we handle Irma."

Donatello nodded and obediently sat down next to his friend, doing his best to show that he had no intent to try anything dangerous. Michelangelo and Leonardo, after a last warning look sent his way, hurried to join Raphael and Casey.

Left to his own devices, Donatello checked April's pulse. She was breathing with regularity; Leonardo was right; she wasn't injured.

With a sigh of relief, he leaned as comfortably as he could against the pipe and watched the fight unfold. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was exhausted; he had no intention to go past Leonardo's orders and join the others.

Of course, he still kept his bō staff ready. You never knew what could happen.

The confrontation with Irma was ferocious, no doubt. Donatello felt grateful that Raphael's shoulder had finally healed and he could be at his best. The four fighters were preventing Irma from coming too close to Donatello and April, and Donatello decided to use the respite to check what his spying program had discovered.

He took his T-Phone and immediately realized that the phone call with his father was still going on. He had completely forgotten about it. He unmuted the phone and spoke a quick "Everything is fine, Sensei" before hanging up, not daring to imagine how his father must feel.

He didn't look forward to facing him, that was for sure.

Donatello watched the screen as it displayed what it had copied from Kraang's Subprime hideout, and he barely stifled a triumphant shout.

The formula of the mysterious mixture that kept hurting him so much was there, ready to be deciphered. It already gave him new ideas for experiments; with Rockwell's help and the rest of the vial, he was confident that he could find a cure for himself.

"Guys! I've got it!" he shouted.

"You got what?" Leonardo asked while the others kept fighting.

Irma was in a tight spot. Apparently she had no more reinforcements, and her opponents were more than willing to take her down once and for all. Which was a rather soothing sight.

"A way to find a cure!" Donatello shouted back as he backed up the files to the Shellraiser's software system.

At his words, Irma let out a furious yell and her robotic head popped up, running towards him on its tiny spider legs. Kraang Subprime left Irma's chest, flying towards Donatello. The alien pushed a button on his mini-ship and a portal appeared behind them, its light blue giving April's body a surreal look.

Donatello wondered if the alien intended to push him through the portal with him. He took his bō staff, determined to defend himself, but a well-known kusarigama was already coiling around his enemy.

"Booyakasha!" Michelangelo shouted.

Soon the slimy brain was surrounded by a threatening collection of weapons, held by very angry teenagers.

"Are you sure, Donnie?" Leonardo asked, his eyes never leaving Kraang Subprime.

"I'm positive. It's going to work, Leo." Donatello felt lighter than he had in ages, and it wasn't only out of exhaustion.

Kraang Subprime narrowed his little eyes. "There is no cure!"

Raphael kicked him and nobody scolded the turtle for hitting an enemy on the ground.

Donatello watched the being that had made him and his family suffer so much. The one who had blackmailed him, almost blown his brother up and definitely blown their lair up, injuring his father and leaving them without a home. Not to mention everything he had done against the other inhabitants of the Earth.

The others were waiting, silently agreeing to let him decide Kraang Subprime's fate.

Donatello glanced at the open portal behind him, then at his T-Phone. Could he tweak his spying program a little to take control of it?

A wide grin spread on his face as he realized that he could.

"I suggest we send him somewhere far, far away from there. A place where he won't be able to hurt us or anybody else ever again."

"And how are you going to do that?" Raphael tilted his head, curious to know what his brother had in mind.

"Well, it turns out that I can hack the portal's OS," Donatello began.

"Its OS?" Michelangelo interrupted him, looking confused.

"Its Operating System." Donatello thought about the best way to explain what he was doing to his brother. "There. Now it's as if I'm inside its control room. I can push all the buttons I want!"

"I'm glad OS exist, then," Michelangelo said with a grin. "It sounds fun. You're the best, Donnie!"

Donatello chuckled and chose a destination many, many lightyears away from Earth, somewhere in outer space with no neighborhood planets. The portal's light blinked once.

"Sorry, you're not wanted here anymore," he said fiercely to the captive alien. He raised his bō staff to kick him out of the Solar System.

"Let me go!" Kraang Subprime shouted.

"I don't think _you_ would have let me go," Donatello replied coldly. "The more I think about it and the more I believe that I should destroy you here and now."

He had no intent to follow through with this threat; he wasn't a cold-blooded killer. However, it felt good to see Kraang Subprime's eyes widen in fear.

"You can't," he moaned, trying to shake his tentacles.

Donatello leaned forward to whisper in the alien's ears. "And why not?"

Kraang Subprime stopped moving and smirked evilly, causing Donatello some concern.

"Because if you do, my dear friend April will never learn the truth," he whispered back, so low that only Donatello could hear him. "And she wants to, she told me so. Many times."

Donatello frowned. "The truth about what?"

"The truth about her mother."

Donatello froze, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. Was Subprime trying to trick him once more, or did he really know something about the fate of April's mother? It was believable. He was, after all, high-ranked amongst the Kraang. Maybe he had even been responsible for the experimentations on April's family, who knew?

He was about to demand a more detailed explanation when Kraang Subprime broke free of his chains. From the smell around them, Donatello immediately understood that he had used something to melt them while they were talking. His mini-ship was unusable, so he crawled with his tentacles until he could grab Donatello's T-Phone and change the portal's destination. He made a very nimble brain and the whole action didn't take more than a second.

"T-Phone, self destruct!" somebody shouted behind him, but it was already too late.

Donatello stayed stunned as Kraang Subprime launched himself through the blue aperture, which disappeared as soon as he had crossed it.

Then he heard a feminine moan next to him. It managed to snap him out of his stupor and he knelt as April sat up, massaging her temples.

"What happened?" she said. Then her eyes widened. "Guys! Donnie is here!"

"Yes, I'm here, April." Donatello took her shaking hand - unless he was the one shaking?

"What just happened? What did he tell you?" Casey asked as he knelt to take April's other hand.

Donatello hesitated. He didn't want to upset April over nothing. He needed more time to think about the recent events.

"He… He talked about a war." This wasn't lying, Kraang Subprime had mentioned a war that the dissection of Donatello's body was supposed to help winning.

As April finally registered his presence and hugged him, Donatello absent-mindedly answered his brothers' questions - no, he didn't know where Kraang Subprime had disappeared, yes, he really thought he could make a cure, could they please go back to the Shellraiser now? He was feeling a little tired - all the while wondering whether Kraang Subprime had told the truth.

He was already making plans to find answers for the girl he more than liked.


	16. Northampton

Donatello gazed through the window of the truck. The landscape was scrolling by, only briefly lit by the headlights. It was mostly hills and forests now; they had long left the urban areas behind.

They would soon arrive at Northampton.

"Donnie?"

Donatello glanced at Leonardo. His brother was driving while the rest of the family, including April and Casey, tried to get some sleep. He doubted that they had all succeeded, but no sound was coming from the back of the Shellraiser.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice low.

"Can you check that there is nobody around? I would feel better if I was sure that no one follows us to the farmhouse."

Donatello nodded. He understood the concern, even if it was unlikely that another car would take the same road as they did. He pushed a few buttons on the dashboard and a picture appeared on the upper right corner of the windshield.

"Course is clear," he whispered.

He had rarely been more grateful for all the technology he had put inside the Shellraiser. It would take time before he had a new lab as well-equipped as his old one, even when they would have moved on. They didn't even have their T-Phones anymore; all of them had been destroyed by the "Self-destruct" command.

When he would make new phones, he would have to find a way to avoid that. Maybe by adding the name of their owner? Like 'Donnie's T-Phone, self-destruct!'

But then, if they did need to destroy all their phones, a 'Donnie's T-Phone and Raph's T-Phone and Mikey's T-Phone and Leo's T-Phone, self-destruct!' would probably be a little too long.

The truck took a narrow road inside the woods. Its familiarity was almost painful. It felt strange to come back so soon, but Northampton was the perfect place to recover and nobody protested when Donatello suggested it after he and Rockwell had designed a cure for him.

Everyone had been way too relieved to know he was going to live.

_I'm rather satisfied with this, myself. _Donatello smiled wryly. A few days ago, he wouldn't have bet on it. Now he felt better and better, even if he still needed a lot of rest.

His father could use the peace and quiet of the place too. Splinter's body wasn't healing as fast as it did in his younger years.

However, it also meant that Donatello would have to be very careful with his plans. When they had come back to the Shellraiser after their fight with Irma, and after celebrating their victory, Splinter had taken Donatello aside to let him know in no uncertain terms that he was grounded until his full recovery, and possibly forever after that.

It didn't help when Donatello pointed out that his interference had been, all things considered, a success.

He sighed. He still hadn't told anyone what Kraang Subprime had whispered to him before fleeing through the portal. He intended to gather more information before he opened up to the others about it.

And what better place to start that the one where everything had begun?

He really hoped that the old Kraang ship in the basement of April's house, the very one that had sheltered April's false mother for years, would give him some answers.

* * *

As the truck stopped in front of the farmhouse and they all yawned and got out, Raphael tried to hide his mixed feelings about being in Northampton again. He had good memories here - bathing in the sun without fear to be discovered by a human, playing in the forest, getting a taste of human's life - but it was also the place where he had feared for his brother's and father's lives, where he had watched the unconscious body of Leonardo for hours and hours, every day of three endless months…

But if this was what Donatello needed, he would give it to him.

Next to him, Casey sighed. "I miss New York."

Raphael couldn't help smirking. "We've been here for three seconds."

"That's three seconds too many."

"You didn't have to come, you know." Raphael didn't add that he was grateful Casey did.

Casey huffed. "Sure, and next think I know you'll be caught in an intergalactic war or something. Somebody needs to watch over you."

Raphael nudged him. "And that somebody has to be you?"

"You get it." Casey grinned. "Besides, April will need a gentleman's company."

Raphael rolled his eyes. "I should have known you had a superior motive."

"What are you two scheming?" April passed by them, carrying her bags.

Casey laughed nervously. "Nothing! Nothing at all. I would never do scheming, and even if I did, I wouldn't do it behind your back, of course not."

April answered something that Raphael didn't listen to. He was too busy wondering why Donatello was suddenly blushing and hurrying inside the house.

* * *

Next morning, Michelangelo was up early to feed the chicken. He knew they didn't really need it. Dr. Cluckingsworth, the mutated super clever chicken, was reigning over the barnyard and took good care of them. Still, it gave him something to do and allowed him to enjoy the sun.

Considering that they had arrived at the farmhouse five hours earlier and taken some time to settle, he didn't expect the others to wake up soon, but he had been unable to wait. It made such a difference to live during the day like humans did. It was one of the things he had really loved about Northampton.

No, he couldn't have waited another day to get used to the time difference, even if it meant that he would be napping all afternoon.

Smiling to himself, Michelangelo emptied his bag of seeds. Now he was going to make a grocery list for April and Casey, and after that he would…

His train of thoughts was cut short when he noticed a shadow disappearing inside the barn. Why wasn't Donatello sleeping? His brother needed to take good care of himself. Frowning, he followed him on light feet.

"Donnie!"

His brother jumped. "Mikey!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't wait," Donatello told him, his tone apologetic. "I have a lot of work to do." He began clearing the workbench, not looking at his brother.

Michelangelo crossed his arms. "You're not supposed to work, you're supposed to relax."

"This is relaxing to me."

Michelangelo pondered this. It was possible that Donatello was saying the truth - it wouldn't be the first time his brother dealt with stress by working.

"Donnie, my bro, know that I love you no matter how weird you are."

Donatello raised an eye ridge, unimpressed by this grand declaration. Michelangelo could almost hear his thoughts. Something like "look at who's talking". He smiled.

"So, do you need help or is this top-secret?"

Donatello almost let go of the rope he was putting in a corner so it didn't get in his way. Michelangelo winced. Maybe he shouldn't have joked about this. Maybe it was still too soon…

Donatello cleared his throat. "I would welcome your help, Mikey."

Michelangelo didn't need to be told twice, and as he focused on Donatello's instructions, he quickly forgot about the incident.

* * *

Leonardo poured the tea inside the three teacups. It was early afternoon. Through the window, he could see the sun shining on the yard where Michelangelo was napping with a straw hat covering his face, curious chickens clucking above him.

"Michelangelo seems to have made some close friends."

Leonardo handed one teacup to his father and another to April, keeping the last for himself. "Mikey could befriend anyone. Or anything," he said fondly.

"This is one of his gifts." Splinter took a sip of his tea. "What is troubling you, my son?"

Leonardo watched him, surprised by the sudden change of topic. He glanced at April, who was pretending to mind her own business, and shrugged. He was worried about a lot of things lately, and none of them would be a surprise to her.

He tinkered with his teacup for a while. He hadn't expected to find himself back at Northampton so soon, and the feeling was bittersweet. Drinking tea with his father in the very kitchen where he had almost drowned in self-doubt not so long ago felt like a blessing. He had held on to the hope that his father was alive, then; like he had held on to the hope that Donatello would find a way to save himself.

Choosing his words carefully, he decided to broach another topic.

"I don't want to stay away from New York for too long. I don't understand why Kraang Subprime told Donnie about a war, but I don't like it."

April rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. "He won't give up. I don't know what he'll come up with next, but he won't give up."

"I wish there was more I could do," Leonardo whispered.

Splinter put his hand on his shoulder. "You all did everything you could, and I couldn't be more proud of you."

"Yes, Sensei, but how can we make sure that something like this won't happen again? Raph has no idea how Irma got him in the first place."

"I'm sure that…" Splinter abruptly stopped.

Both he and Leonardo turned their heads towards the kitchen entrance, eyes narrowed. April watched them, frowning, as they came closer to the entrance.

"What are you doing?"

Leonardo put a finger on his lips and tilted his head, indicating that she should follow them. He hadn't heard as much as felt something in the living room, and he had learned to listen to his instinct.

_Somebody_ was up to something in this house.

* * *

Donatello didn't know how to begin his investigations. The ship was in the basement, which could be accessed from a hatch in the entrance of the farmhouse. However, there was a lot of traffic in said entrance. His brothers, Splinter, April and Casey came in and out at every hour of the day, and at night there would be people sleeping on the couch.

In the end, he decided to try his luck. With Raphael and Casey on an errand, Michelangelo sleeping and Leonardo, Splinter and April having a tea party in the kitchen, he had a reasonable chance to slip by unnoticed.

He had already oiled the hatch and built a remote-controlled toy car to put the carpet back into place, so nobody would notice his passage. He was supposed to take a nap upstairs, and he had maybe half an hour of tranquility before someone checked on him. He would have to be fast, but it was feasible.

He opened the hatch and slid inside. He went down the stairs in silent steps, using a headlamp to light the way. Soon he saw the Kraang ship, as impressive as the first time they had discovered it. He shivered. And to think that April herself had ignored its presence underneath her house…

His hand came closer to the outside control panel. He had already studied the ship once, but maybe something had escaped his notice. He would be more thorough this time.

"Donatello?"

The turtle froze in his tracks. Slowly, carefully, he turned around.

He found himself facing Splinter, April and Leonardo, and stifled a deep sigh.

"Sensei!" He cleared his throat. "How was your tea?"

"What is this place?" Splinter asked, frowning.

"Did you want to see the Kraang ship?" April asked at the same time. "Donnie, why the mystery? We all know it's there."

"A Kraang ship?" Splinter's ears straightened up.

Donatello realized that they had never talked to their father about it.

"It has been abandoned by the Kraang, Sensei," Leonardo quickly explained. "We found it last time."

"I thought that maybe I could learn something useful there," Donatello answered April. "It's of the utmost importance that I understand what Irma told me."

He couldn't help feeling ashamed for not telling her the whole truth. She was directly affected. On the other end, he remembered vividly how painful the false mother episode had been for her, and he didn't want a repetition of that.

April narrowed her eyes. Could she tell that he was hiding something this important from her?

"It doesn't explain why you sneaked here instead of talking to us about your plans."

Donatello laughed nervously. "I… I… You're all saying that I should rest. I thought you wouldn't approve."

"Hmm." Splinter stroked his beard.

Donatello knew that they knew something was off, and they probably knew that he knew that they knew, but he hoped that they wouldn't push him.

"Alright, my son. You may investigate, but I would rather you didn't work here alone."

Donatello nodded sheepishly. "Hai, Sensei."

April smiled at him. "I'll help you," she offered. "And if you don't mind, I'll begin with switching on the lights."

"This sounds like a great idea, April." Splinter watched the teenage girl and his blushing son with amusement. "In the meantime, Leonardo and I will go back to the kitchen. Our tea is cooling down."

* * *

Donatello wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead. He was walking on eggshells. Talking to April about what he was doing without talking to her about what he was truly doing had exhausted him. She had just left to fetch drinks, and he had a few minutes to act before she came back.

He tapped at the control panel of the ship. He was looking for a logbook, something that would tell him in more detail what experiments had happened here and why. It was an old model and the spying program he had used in Irma's hideout didn't work. However, Donatello was confident it would with the appropriate changes.

Sticking his tongue out, he began his reprogramming on the computer that April had lent him, checking his progress on the ship's screens.

He was focusing so much that he didn't hear the light buzz of a portal opening until a gun was pressed against his head.

"What a nice surprise!" Irma's voice sang in his ear. "It took me some time to find my way back here - it has been a while - but it's absolutely worth it."

"What are you doing here?" Donatello uttered slowly, careful not to move. The Kraang didn't find them in Northampton during the invasion of New York. Why now?

"I'm here for the ship." Irma stroked the control panel lovingly. "You sink them faster than we build them, and we need each and every one of them for the Big Battle to come."

"When are you going to understand that Earth isn't a planet for you?" Donatello asked. April would be back every second now. Maybe she could repel Irma with her psychic powers, giving him time to grab his weapon and fight back.

"You inhabitants of Earth are so self-centered. It's not always about you, you know?" Irma sighed, as if she was deeply disappointed.

Donatello bit back a scathing remark. If somebody was self-centered here, it wasn't him.

He was intrigued, though. Maybe it was his chance to learn more about the Kraang's plans.

"Are you-"

He never got to finish his sentence. He barely felt the syringe pushing through his skin before everything went black.

* * *

April ran into Casey on her way back from the kitchen, which had been empty – Leonardo and Splinter must have joined the others outside. From the look of him, Casey was heading for the bathroom.

"Hey, April! What are you up to?" Casey picked up a drink on her plate and she snatched it back before he could take a sip.

"These aren't for you, Casey. I'm helping Donnie. He wants to explore the Kraang ship in the basement again. What have _you _been doing?" She waved at the mud, leaves and twigs covering him. It left a trail behind him.

Casey grinned. "Raph showed me a trick or two about stealth." He stroke a pose. "Now Casey Jones knows everything about the art of not being seen!"

"Sure, Casey." April rolled her eyes. "I'm not noticing you at all." She walked past him, grinning, and headed for the basement's stairs.

"Well, you should!" Casey called her back, apparently not bothered by the contradiction. He hurried to place himself in front of her and carry on with the conversation.

In his haste, he slipped on the mud and leaves on the floor and fell down the stairs.

"Casey!" April put down her plate and ran after him, careful not to slip like he had. "Casey, are you alright? Did you hurt yours- No!"

April's reflexes were quick, but there was nothing she could do as the Kraang stealth ship that had been abandoned for years disappeared, Casey clinging on to it.


	17. Lost in Space

Casey gritted his teeth. He hadn't been hurt in his fall; he was too used to falls of all kinds to be hurt by something as menial as a staircase. The cuts and bruises didn't count.

The Kraang stealth ship had reappeared in the sky. The farmhouse was the size of a stamp now, so jumping from the ship wasn't an option.

Casey wondered whether he should curse or bless his luck. He had landed on the stealth ship right before it disappeared; one more second and there would have been nothing more in the basement than a teenage boy and his hurt pride.

Nothing more, that was: no Kraang ship and no Donatello.

Casey was cleverer than most people gave him credit for, and he had no doubt that Donatello was in trouble. After all, it wasn't the first time that they tinkered with that particular ship, and it had never shown any will to disappear before.

And who was the last Kraang they had the displeasure to meet? That was right, Kraang Subprime. He had exploded the turtles' lair, almost blown up Casey's best friend and made Donatello very, very sick.

Well, if Kraang Subprime was inside that ship, he would learn how good Casey Jones was at fighting for the ones he cared about.

Crawling to the ship entrance, Casey tried to remember how to open it. It had something to do with the shiny pink buttons on the side… He hesitated. Would he get noticed? Probably. It wasn't a very good plan, but it was the only one he had. Shrugging, he pushed one button at random. The ship's door slid open and Casey entered it, hand firmly grabbing the hockey stick that never left him.

* * *

The first thing that Casey noticed was the noise. The whistling was so loud that nobody had heard him enter, which was made obvious by the fact the enemy was casually turning his back to him.

The enemy, namely Irma.

_I knew it_, Casey thought ferociously.

The second thing he noticed was Donatello's shape on the ground. Irma was busy pushing him inside a giant chamber, and Casey remembered that it was where April's false mother had been.

_She wants to deep freeze Donnie? _The mere idea was disgusting.

"Get away from him, you stupid Kraang!" Casey threw himself at Irma and hit her with all his might.

The hockey stick broke and Casey briefly regretted the loss of yet another of his faithful sticks.

Irma turned around and gave him a disdainful glance. "Too bad you decided to join us, human. I have no need for you!"

Casey pointed at Donatello with one arm while the other threw one of his handmade exploding pucks. "What do you want him for anyways? You already have an army."

The puck exploded next to Irma's head, which left Irma's shoulders to scamper to Casey.

"I want the final results of my little experiment," Irma said with Kraang Subprime's voice. "And I need to keep him in good shape for my scientists."

Casey stifled a sigh of relief. At least Irma hadn't killed Donatello. The teenager slid on his rollerblades and kicked Irma's head out of the ship through the still opened window.

At the same time, Irma became Hulk-Irma, quadrupling her size and enabling Casey to admire her full weaponry. However, the ship's size didn't allow her to move nimbly. Even without her head, she still had to crouch.

But Casey could move freely, and he slid between her legs to reach Donatello. "What do you want from him?" he shouted, hoping to distract Irma. Boasting was one of Kraang Subprime's most blatant weaknesses, and Casey was hoping to buy time.

"I want to know what damage my vial did to his internal organs," Kraang Subprime explained. "What's the point of a toxicity experiment if you don't collect the results? Although I must say that he looks in better shape than I expected."

_He found a cure, you sick brain. _Casey glanced at Donatello and noticed that he was stirring.

Irma moved an arm and fired. Casey threw himself to the floor to avoid it. He crawled under the crouched robot and on an impulse, he jumped to try and pull Kraang Subprime out of his shelter. The Kraang clung to the robot with his tentacles and bit Casey's arm. Casey yelled in pain, but he didn't let go.

Now Irma was pointing her cannons towards Casey and Kraang Subprime, and Casey wondered if she would be crazy enough to fire at herself. But maybe the absence of her head had downgraded the Artificial Intelligence inside, and Kraang Subprime was too busy to take the commands back.

"Watch out!" Donatello's voice shouted.

Casey felt someone push him backwards.

"Donnie! You're awake!" he beamed, still holding Kraang Subprime.

At the same time, Irma fired and exploded in metallic pieces that would have shredded Casey and Kraang Subprime - who had finally let go of the robot and was now trying to bite Casey's head - if Donatello hadn't used his shell to shield them all.

As soon as pieces of metal had stopped flying in and out of the ship, Donatello took his bō staff and used it to knock Kraang Subprime out.

Casey sighed in relief. "Thanks, Donnie."

"You're welcome."

Donatello kicked the unconscious alien inside the chamber and closed it before running to the control panel.

It was becoming colder, and Casey realized that they were now in the upper atmosphere.

"Close the door!" Donatello shouted. "The controls aren't working, the explosion must have damaged the ship!"

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Casey shouted back as he ran to said door and tried to put it back into place with brute strength.

If you asked him, it could have been automated. But maybe the ship was of a model too ancient for that, or maybe it hadn't been in its prime even before Irma blow herself up.

Luckily, it worked. Casey grinned and turned to Donatello. His smile died on his lips when he realized that Donatello was panting and leaning against the wall.

"Donnie? Are you alright?"

Donatello closed his eyes briefly before straightening up and nodding. "Yes. Irma injected me with something to anesthetize me, apparently." He made a pause. "I'm surprised she didn't kill me."

"I think she needed you alive." Casey watched the chamber where Kraang Subprime was now imprisoned. "That crazy alien talked about a toxicity experiment, and that he wanted to give you to his scientists to look at… uh… your internal organs or something."

Donatello winced. "Well, I'm glad you were here to thwart his evil plans." He took another look at the control panel. "I'll try to repair it so we can go back to the farmhouse." He waved at the remnants of Irma's body. "At least we won't be short of spare parts."

Casey nodded and began examining them, looking for something that could replace a hockey stick. He had just found the perfect piece - a part of Irma's robotic left leg - when Donatello exclaimed.

"Oh no!"

Casey winced. "Do I want to know how bad an 'Oh no!' it is?"

Donatello grabbed Casey's shoulders. "This ship is accumulating energy! Do you know what it means?"

"No, but you're going to tell me." Casey's voice sounded resigned.

"It's preparing itself to leave this dimension!"

Casey paled. "Can you stop it? Please?"

Donatello shook his head. "If I had got hours? Maybe. But we're going to jump in…"

A series of symbols appeared on the ship's screen and began disappearing, one after the other. It looked suspiciously like a countdown.

"… Ten seconds."

* * *

On Earth, the mood was pretty grim.

It hadn't taken the others more than fifteen seconds to run to the basement, but the ship was long gone.

"What happened?" Leonardo shouted.

"The ship… it… it disappeared," April whispered. "With Donnie and Casey."

"What?" the others yelled.

April sat down and took her head in her hands. "I wasn't expecting danger," she whispered. "I never thought that the ship would still work after all this time…"

"Did Donnie make it work?" Michelangelo asked.

April looked at him, her face desperate. "I don't believe so, Mikey. I had the time to feel another presence in the room. Guys… I think Irma found him."

Raphael clenched his fists. "And where are they now?"

April bowed her head. "I don't know."

* * *

Donatello and Casey had patched the bite on Casey's arm and were now looking morosely at the ship's screen. It was displaying a view of a planet that they knew all too well.

"Why did it have to be Dimension X?" Casey complained. "I hate Dimension X. It's worse than the countryside."

"This is because I chose our destination before you decided to board this ship," a well-known albeit muffled voice said behind them.

Both Donatello and Casey turned around to watch a very awake Kraang Subprime.

"You should have hit him harder," Casey muttered.

Donatello paid him no attention. "And what would that destination be?" he asked.

Subprime wagged. "You would like to know, wouldn't you, turtle? Too bad I won't tell you."

Casey lifted the metallic piece he had chosen as a temporary replacement for his hockey stick, ready to hit the chamber in the hope of stunning its occupant.

"No!" Donatello quickly said. "We don't want to risk damaging the chamber. It's a good prison for him."

Kraang Subprime glared at him and turned around, pouting.

Casey lowered his weapon. "Then what do you suggest?"

Donatello's smile was devilish. "I have another idea."

Taking one of the many metallic pieces scattered across the ship, he came closer to the chamber and used the piece against the window pane. It grated.

The sound, already extremely unpleasant to Casey's ears, seemed way worse to the Kraang, who withered.

"Oh, I see." Casey grinned and decided that he could as well give Donatello a hand.

Their grating concerto was finally too much for Kraang Subprime.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he yelled.

"Then let's chat," Donatello said casually.

Subprime glared daggers at them both. "What do you want to know?"

To Casey's surprise, Donatello didn't answer immediately. He seemed hesitant for some reason.

"First, where are we going?" the turtle finally said.

"To my headquarters, where my Kraang will capture and dissect you and kill the boy," Kraang Subprime answered, grinning a toothy grin.

Casey frowned and grated some more against the window pane. Kraang Subprime yelled.

"Casey, if you would be so kind, I'm trying to question the enemy," Donatello said, sounding annoyed.

Casey took a step back. "He began it," he accused.

"And where exactly are your headquarters?" Donatello went on.

"They're in the middle of Dimension X," Kraang Subprime answered, glaring at Casey.

Donatello didn't seem very happy with this answer. Casey assumed that considering how different the laws of physics were in Dimension X, its middle could be anywhere.

"What is this war you told me about?" the turtle went on, choosing a different line of questioning. "Do you really believe that you can invade Earth again, so soon after we utterly defeated you? It sounds a little too crazy, even for you. I bet your supply of mutagen is still very low."

Kraang Subprime shrugged. "We're going to destroy once and for all the traitors to our race. They have been a thorn in our side for way too long. See? Not everything revolves around you and your stupid little planet."

"Then what about me? Why this…" Donatello glanced at Casey. "… toxicity experiment?"

Kraang Subprime beamed. "I wanted to make a poison that would kill, but not immediately, you see? It's less fun if your enemies don't suffer. You were a great test subject."

"You're disgusting," Casey spat.

Kraang Subprime bowed as if this was a compliment. "My pleasure, human."

Then he watched Donatello, his eyes narrowed to slits and a dangerous grin on his lips. "Is this all you want to know, turtle? I would have thought that you would be more curious about, you know…"

Donatello paled, increasing Casey's curiosity as well as his suspicions. Had his friend been hiding something from them again?

"April's mother," Kraang Subprime finished.

Casey's eyes widened. "April's mo… Donnie! What is he talking about?"

"I… I was going to tell you," Donatello stammered. "But I needed to make sure that he wasn't trying to mislead me, you know?"

"I wasn't." Kraang Subprime was still grinning. "I followed every experiment on the O'Neil family, you see."

Casey couldn't believe his ears. "How could you not tell April? Dude! She has the right to know!"

"I was going to!" Donatello yelled. "I just needed more than, 'By the way, April, the crazy alien mentioned your mother. I don't know anything else. Let's go get dinner'!"

Casey crossed his arms. "Well, this is the perfect opportunity, right?" He turned to Kraang Subprime. "So what happened to April's mother?"

Kraang Subprime let out a heavy sigh. "Sadly, she was still alive when she escaped."

"She escaped?" Donatello and Casey both exclaimed.

Was it possible that April's mother was still alive somewhere? April was going to be overjoyed.

"She did," Subprime admitted.

His cunning look rang an alarm bell in Casey's stomach, and the teenager felt Donatello tense next to him.

"Luckily, we found her three months later," the alien went on. "You should have seen her, she looked so surprised when we shot her in the heart! Of course, torturing her would have been so much better, but you know. Instant death has its charms."

"You monster!" Casey yelled, and Donatello had to physically restrain him before he could smash the chamber to pieces.

Kraang Subprime merely laughed.

* * *

April, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo and Splinter were gathered in the kitchen. None of them was in the mood for talking.

April knew they were all dwelling on the same thoughts.

How could they have lost Donatello's track so soon after they had managed to save him? What had happened to Casey?

And more importantly, were they still alive?

Everybody was itching to do something, anything; and still they were powerless.

The silence was so heavy that they could have heard a pin drop. That's why nobody missed the loud bump from below the house, and they all ran to the basement.

The foolish hope that maybe Donatello and Casey had found a way to come back filled April's heart as she rushed down the stairs, but she was soon disappointed. The ship wasn't there.

There was, however, a Kraang in costume sitting on the ground. He stood up and dusted himself.

"Greetings, inhabitants of Earth," the Kraang said. "I'm looking for a ship. Have you seen it?"

April frowned. This Kraang had a different aura from the Kraang she was used to. Before she could put her finger on it, though, a green and red blur jumped down the Kraang's throat, all sai out.

"What have you done to my brother?"


	18. Alien Wars

"And what have you done to my friend?"

Raphael's fury knew no bounds. This was the last straw. How could the Kraang - and a minion at that, not even Kraang Subprime - dare to come back there after what had happened?

Both his brother and his best friend were missing. There would be no mercy. Raphael lashed out, ready to pin his enemy to the ground…

The Kraang moved, and if he wasn't exactly graceful he was efficient. Raphael couldn't do anything as his arm was grabbed and he was sent flying across the basement.

"Your manners are lacking, mutant," the Kraang dared to remark.

The turtle saw his family take stances to fight back as the Kraang raised his arms in a gesture of peace. "I mean you no harm."

"Liar!" Raphael had picked himself up and was upon the Kraang again. This time he would not underestimate the enemy. This time he would…

The Kraang moved out of his way and tried to use his momentum to trip him. It was a clumsy trap, and Raphael had no problem avoiding it…

Before he had time to register what was happening, he was crashing against the wall. He repressed a grimace. His shoulder was still reminding him that no so long ago it had been sliced open.

It was barely a relief when he was joined against said wall by his brothers, showing that they had tried their luck with no better results.

"I repeat, I mean you no harm." The Kraang sounded slightly exasperated. "If you give me a chance to explain myself, I'm certain that we will sort out this misunderstanding."

"Like I'll ever trust a Kraang," Raphael spat as he stood up once more, feeling a little wobbly.

"He's telling the truth," April said, fingers pressing against her temples. "I can feel he's different."

Raphael shook his head, denying her words. He felt Leonardo's hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off.

"I don't believe it!" he shouted.

"Raphael, enough," Splinter said softly.

Raphael stopped, wincing. He took several deep breathes as his reason caught up with him. That Kraang did sound different, if only because he spoke English and not Kraanglish. And he wasn't aggressive in the slightest, considering that Raphael had attacked first.

His father addressed the Kraang. "We're listening."

The Kraang bowed his robotic head. "Thank you. I'll be short. My name is Bishop and I'm not a Kraang, I'm a Utrom. There are very few of us left and the Kraang, under Kraang Prime's command, are trying to destroy us. I was hoping to find there an old ship we could have used in our war."

"You're too late," April said. "We think Kraang Subprime took it."

"He also kidnapped two members of our team," Leonardo added, his voice tense.

Bishop clenched his fists, the first true sign of anger Raphael saw him display.

"Subprime. I shouldn't be surprised."

"So you know the guy?" Raphael spun his sai. "You're what, friends maybe?"

"No. We're sworn enemies."

April frowned. "And? You're not telling us everything."

Raphael refrained from telling that it was to be expected. Kraang or not, this alien would have to go a long way before he would be ready to trust him.

Bishop sighed. "You're very perceptive, human. Again, I shouldn't be surprised. Yes, Kraang Subprime was once a brother in arms. We Utroms looked up to him, our Knight. We believed that he deserved it in body and in heart." Bishop bowed his head in sorrow. "We were wrong. His betrayal was a harsh blow for all of us."

"A knight?" Raphael snorted. That word simply didn't apply to Irma.

"That guy has no honor," Leonardo added, continuing Raph's sentence.

Bishop closed his eyes briefly, as if the truth of these words pained him. "I must agree with you, mutant. Most of our brethren were enslaved by Kraang Prime, but Subprime made his own choice."

"Enslaved?" April asked softly.

Bishop nodded. "Kraang Prime was once one of our scientists. She discovered mutagen and used it on herself. It both developed her telepathic abilities and drove her crazy."

"These dictators." Michelangelo nodded gravely. "Power corrupts them all."

Raphael lifted an eye ridge at that statement coming from his brother's mouth. But he had to admit that Michelangelo was right.

"Why take this ship now?" Leonardo suddenly asked. "It has been in this basement for years."

"You're correct." Bishop intertwined his fingers. "It is, in fact, thanks to you. After their defeat at taking over the Earth, the Kraang are weakened. It is the perfect time to try our boldest move yet. We Utroms intend to free the Kraang from their slavery."

"Now look at that," Raphael whispered. "Turns out we're famous, uh?"

If the situation hadn't been so dire, it would have pleased him.

"How do you intend to free them?" April had taken a step forwards, captivated by Bishop's story.

"We made a substance that can cut off the telepathic link between Kraang Prime and the rest of the Kraang. We saw how you healed your fellow humans, even though you had so few combatants. We intend to do the same."

"A substance?" Splinter had been mostly quiet until then, but now he was frowning.

Something twisted in Raphael's stomach.

"Yes. It has been in the making for decades, but Subprime stole our supply and..."

"It's you! You made that thing!"

It took both Leonardo and Michelangelo to prevent Raphael from jumping down Bishop's throat for the third time.

"Irma gave it to Donnie," Raphael went on, unshed tears in his eyes. "It almost killed him!"

"Irma?" Bishop raised an eyebrow.

"Kraang Subprime's name on Earth," Leonardo explained, his tone stiff. "Did you really make it?"

Bishop frowned. "Subprime must have altered it. It wasn't meant to harm."

"Have you any idea where he might be now? Like we told you, he has our brother and our friend."

Raphael didn't miss Leonardo's clenched fists, even though his brother's voice was perfectly controlled. He waited, hanging on the Utrom's every word.

He was utterly disappointed.

"No. Subprime could be anywhere." Bishop must have realized that they had been crushed by his words, because he quickly went on. "But maybe my fellow Utroms will have information. I'll ask them."

"We're coming with you," Leonardo said before Raphael could.

Bishop tilted his head. "Are you certain? You'll land in the middle of a war."

"All the more reason to be there." Leonardo nodded fiercely. "Kraang Subprime might be taking the ship to this war as we speak, with Donnie and Casey on board."

Raphael shivered as another thought occurred to him. They knew from Michelangelo's experience in Dimension X that time elapsed differently there. What if Donatello and Casey were already in the middle of said war? What if they were already...

"We need to hurry!" he exclaimed, not daring to end this particular thought. "Maybe they've already been in there for weeks!"

The upset exclamations of his family told him that they hadn't thought of this yet. But Bishop didn't seem overly concerned.

"I'm able to control that parameter," he answered. "We'll enter Dimension X right after I left it. Who's coming with me?"

Everybody, including Splinter, stepped forward.

Bishop took a deep breath. "So be it."

Taking a device from his pocket, he pushed a button and a light blue portal appeared in the basement.

One by one, they disappeared through the Utrom's portal.

* * *

Neither Donatello nor Casey had talked much after Kraang Subprime's revelation. The ship was still flying through Dimension X, with no headquarters in sight.

The only positive point was that Donatello had managed to partially repair the ship. The freeze functionality was now fully operational, and they had used it on Kraang Subprime. It had at least stopped him from teasing and mocking them, although they had learned more about the extent of his craziness - and in particular about the explosion of the turtles' lair. Apparently the bomb so easily triggered by Michelangelo had been there just in case, but as Kraang Subprime put it, 'Human technology wasn't reliable.'

Now Donatello had done everything he could. They would have to wait until the ship arrived at its destination, and take steps from there.

It was time to address the elephant in the room.

"What are we going to tell April?"

Casey didn't answer immediately. Donatello knew that he was as upset as he was about this - not only had a woman been murdered, but that woman was the long-lost mother of the girl they both loved.

Casey might very well be his rival, he was also the only person who truly understood how terrifying the prospect of hurting April was to Donatello - even if it was only as the bearer of bad news.

"If I were her, I would want to know," Casey finally whispered.

Donatello's shoulders sagged. "Yes. I guess I would want it too. I just... I suppose I don't want to be the one telling her that her mother is dead."

Casey hesitantly put his hand on Donatello's arm. "We could tell her together."

Donatello smiled at Casey, grateful for the offer.

"I can't believe that slimy alien is so proud of being a murderer," Casey added, tilting his head towards the frozen shape of Kraang Subprime.

"Yes." Donatello came closer to the chamber. "I don't think he'll ever stop. But he won't catch us unawares again."

Casey looked grimly at the ship's control panel. "What are we going to do when this thing finally arrives where it's supposed to arrive?"

Donatello threw his arms up. "You mean, when we land in the middle of the Kraang headquarters? Well, I hope they still have portals to the Earth. Or we'll be stuck together for a very long time."

Casey snorted. "And I don't want that, that's for sure."

Donatello nudged Casey, who nudged him back, and soon they were caught in a nudging contest.

They were rudely interrupted by a pink light blinking and the unmistakable sound of a Kraangdroid voice.

"Kraang, identify yourself to Kraang."

Both teenagers turned to look at the screen. The ship was coming closer to the biggest Dimension X planet they had ever seen.

"The Kraang headquarters," Donatello whispered.

"If Kraang doesn't identify himself as Kraang, Kraang will have to destroy Kraang's ship. Kraang is warning Kraang."

Donatello hurried to the control panel and cleared his throat before pressing a button. He needed to make his best impression of an alien robotic voice. Thanks to Michelangelo, he had some practice. "Kraang speaking. I'm with Kraang. We're back from a mission for Kraang Subprime."

"Kraang is glad to hear Kraang is Kraang. Kraang has come back just in time. Kraang must hurry to join Kraang!"

Donatello didn't dare to ask what they had come back just in time for and ended the communication. He exchanged a relieved glance with Casey. At least they weren't going to be destroyed just like this.

"So, what's the plan, Donnie?" Casey asked.

Donatello took his time to answer. The reasonable path would have been to hide and wait for a good opportunity to use a portal.

On the other hand…

He glanced at Kraang Subprime, thinking fast.

On the other end, being into the heart of the Kraang's territory was a unique opportunity. With the right strategy and a drop of improvisation, maybe they could ensure that the Kraang wouldn't be able to abduct and kill people for a very, very long time.

Having made his decision, Donatello smirked. "If I told you that I'm going to undertake a very dangerous and very stupid mission, what would you say, Casey?"

Casey grinned and spun the robotic leg he was using as a temporary hockey stick.

"I would say that no mission is too dangerous or stupid for Casey Jones."

"It'll be just the two of us. We can't expect any back-up." Donatello extended his hand towards Casey.

The human shook it ceremoniously.

"For April," he whispered.

"For April."


	19. Lair Explorations

Donatello's heart beat faster as the Kraang ship began his descent towards the planet that was the Kraang headquarters. He had managed to explain the key features of his plan to Casey, who had whistled his appreciation. Or his incredulity, Donatello didn't know for sure.

Nevertheless, Donatello was happy to have an audience.

Several minutes later - an excruciating long time - the Kraang ship landed. Donatello and Casey waited to see if someone would meet them, but nobody came.

His pupils white and his hands firmly grabbing his bō staff, Donatello silently asked Casey to open the door. His ally did so with a grim expression, ready for everything.

It wasn't necessary. Nobody waited for them at the door, although they knew the access to the headquarters was monitored. Was it an elaborate trap?

Donatello risked a glance out of the ship. The crazy landscapes of Dimension X were deserted. Donatello dared to take a few steps in the open, and still nothing happened.

"Where did they all go?" Casey whispered.

Donatello shrugged. "I don't know. Let's find out."

All around them, several towers suggested entry points to an underground complex. After a last look at their surroundings, Donatello and Casey came back inside the ship to dislodge the chamber containing the frozen Kraang Subprime. Carrying it, Donatello and Casey made their way to the closest tower.

* * *

The Utroms' lair was nothing like Michelangelo had imagined. It wasn't brimming with mad scientists and their gadgets, or flashing with pink lights. In fact, lighting was a light and relaxing blue, and except for them, the corridors were empty.

It felt… boring.

There was one bright side, though. This lair was situated inside Dimension X, Michelangelo felt it. And Dimension X meant…

"Mikey!"

Raphael sounded half-resigned and half-exasperated, which meant that Michelangelo had pulled off exactly what he wanted to.

"Savage Mikey salutes you, turtle of the Earth," he said, extending his arms so everyone could admire his favorite Dimension X-outfit.

Bishop, who was guiding them through the complex, spared him a glance and immediately raised an inquiring eyebrow. Savage Mikey beamed at him.

"Don't ask," Leonardo advised him.

Bishop didn't comment. He kept walking until they arrived at a door guarded by Utrom-droids - Savage Mikey thought that they looked too much like Kraangdroids to his taste, he would have to put a word in for them with Bishop, there was room for improvement - and knocked thrice.

The door opened. Inside, a council of three people was waiting for them behind a circular table.

One of the council members was a Utrom Droid, another looked just like the old lady that had almost killed April once, and the third…

It was Irma.

"Back off!" Raphael shouted.

Before Raphael could do anything more, though, Bishop had grabbed his shoulders and paralyzed him. Mikey might have been surprised by the move, but Savage Mikey knew better. It was obvious that this Irma wasn't their Irma. He could have told Raphael, of course, but Raphael likely wouldn't have listened.

"Do not worry. This is not Kraang Subprime," Bishop said. He adjusted his sunglasses and took a solemn expression.

Or at least, a more solemn expression than usual. It wasn't always easy to say, with these droids.

"Meet Queen. Rook. And Pawn," Bishop told them.

The council member who was Rook and not Irma spoke. "I understand your surprise, turtles. You must know that the Traitor stole my idea and used it for his own evil plans, like he did with much of Utrom technology." She sighed.

"So we've been told," Raphael muttered. "You really should make a better job of watching it."

Leonardo nudged him.

"It is an honor to meet you." Splinter bowed his head.

Savage Mikey didn't like the fact that his father put a lot of weight on his cane for support.

"We're looking for my son. Have you seen him?"

Rook shook her head. "Bishop forewarned us. No, we didn't see him, but we'll keep an eye out for him. However, I'm afraid you're coming at the wrong time. The Kraang are about to launch a full attack against us."

"Can they find you in there?" Leonardo asked anxiously.

This time, the old lady - Queen - answered. "I'm afraid they can. It's a matter of hours before they breach our last defenses."

"Sooo…" Leonardo watched them expectantly. "What's your plan?"

"All-out war," Bishop said with great solemnity. He pushed a button and fifteen Utrom droids entered the room martially.

Savage Mikey wondered whether it was the entirety of the war force of the Utroms. If so, he could foresee a few problems.

"Are you going to use your mixture on the Kraang? Do you have enough?" he asked, hoping that they had at least this working for them.

Rook cleared her robotic throat. "We can spread it across hundredth of squared meters."

"What size is that?" Raphael whispered to Leonardo.

"The size of a big warehouse, maybe?" Leonardo answered in kind.

"That won't get them very far. Ouch! Leo, what was that for?"

Raphael glared at the brother who had just nudged him for the second time, harder. Savage Mikey smiled.

Bishop intertwined his fingers. "We are aware of this… inconvenient, turtles. But we must not despair."

Savage Mikey watched him pensively. "Could you lend us a ship? We need to go looking for our brother and our friend."

It didn't escape Savage Mikey's notice that Splinter, his father, was barely managing to hide his surprise. It was a very satisfying feeling.

Bishop shook his head. "I'm sorry, turtles. We've too little ships to spare one now. But," he added, pushing his glasses up his nose, "once we'll have won, we'll gladly help you in your search!"

"Yeah," Leonardo and Savage Mikey both said.

Bishop dusted his suit, obviously embarrassed.

"In the meantime, make yourselves at ease. You're our guests."

"We're sorry we can't do more for your friends," Queen added. "But at least we can offer our help in another department. We know that some of you have been hurt." She looked at Splinter and Raphael. "Please allow us to accelerate your healing."

"We are grateful for your kind offer," Splinter said.

Savage Mikey nodded. At least their stay here wouldn't be a complete waste of time.

* * *

If he could have chosen his partner for a very stealthy mission, Donatello wouldn't have picked Casey Jones. The teenage boy was breathing too noisily and his footsteps resonated against the ground, at least to Donatello's delicate ear.

Luckily, they still hadn't met anybody.

All in all, it was going pretty well. Arriving to the tower had been a bigger challenge than expected, mostly because the physics of that Dimension made zero sense to anybody gifted with reason.

But they had managed it, thanks to Casey stumbling in what looked like a dried pool, which had propelled them inside the most distant tower.

Of course, Casey had pretended that he had planned it all along.

Now they were rolling the chamber containing the frozen Kraang Subprime in front of them as delicately as they could - for considerations of silence and stealth and not because they cared about him, it went without saying. The corridors were deserted, but Donatello kept vigilant for any possible Kraang.

It was beginning to worry him. Where had the aliens disappeared?

Finding their way through the maze was another problem. Donatello indicated directions at random, hoping that if he looked knowledgeable enough Casey wouldn't question it. Of course, he had no idea where he was going.

When one of the corridors ended in front of a metallic door, Donatello barely hesitated before pushing it - he had a pretense to keep.

It wasn't latched and they entered another deserted room. It looked like a laboratory of some sort, with metallic beds and tanks filled with suspicious liquids. Donatello tensed.

"I have a bad feeling about this place, Donnie," Casey whispered nervously. "Let's get out!"

But Donatello's attention had been attracted by a row of computers, or at least he assumed they were computers.

"Just a quick glance," he answered, unable to resist.

He was beginning to develop a certain expertise in deciphering Kraang computer codes, and it wasn't long before he accessed the data he was so eager to see.

He clicked on one of the files and immediately regretted it. There, on the screen of one of his computers, his brother was being implanted with a bomb in high definition.

"Oh, gross!" Casey shouted.

The images of Raphael lying on a table of the very laboratory Casey and Donatello were in, with Kraang bent all over him, were sickening. Donatello quickly closed the file as the syringe made its way through his brother's shoulder, remembering how Irma had described the process to convince him that she was telling the truth, a lifetime ago. Or was it only weeks?

Donatello clicked on another file and watched the screen with a grim expression. The setting was familiar to him.

"Are these your sewers?" Casey asked.

"Obviously we've found Irma's footage."

Donatello tried to sound exasperated at Casey's slow thinking process while what he really wanted to do was throw up in a corner of the room. Especially when the film showed Raphael running through the sewers and suddenly falling unconscious on the ground.

"Irma… I thought she might have used gas," Donatello said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"That wretched alien!" Casey spat in disgust.

Donatello suddenly didn't want to learn more. Imagining his brother in this place, at the mercy of their enemies… With the medical equipment he could see, and the metallic beds, and they, his family, didn't came to rescue him… They hadn't even known…

"Let's go," he whispered.

Casey nodded and pushed a door. He must have been as upset as Donatello, though, because he apparently hadn't noticed that it wasn't the entrance door, but a closet.

Donatello hesitated for maybe half a second before stating the obvious. "It's a closet, Casey. It won't get us anyw-"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"Casey!" Donatello ran to the closet, too late.

Casey had disappeared.

Donatello carefully bent forwards to look inside the closet… and found himself attracted to what was apparently the ground.

One second later, he wasn't in the laboratory anymore.

* * *

April wandered in the Utrom headquarters, hands in her pockets. She needed to think. She had a strange feeling, as if the Utroms were hiding something from her. But what would there be to hide?

She let her instinct guide her. The place wasn't that big - like the Utrom council had finally admitted, there weren't many of them left.

After a while, she arrived at a door that looked like it was waiting for her, if Utrom doors could wait for almost human teenage girls.

It was closed. April frowned, focused, and the door opened with a soft click. She entered the space behind it with determination.

From what she could guess, it was a hallway circling around the main room. Pictures of Utroms were hanging on the walls on both sides. April raised an eyebrow, wondering whether she had found an art gallery or something.

But the notes below the pictures, written in several languages including English, quickly disabused her.

This gallery was dedicated to the memory of every Utrom having fallen in the war against the Kraang.

April felt a lump in her throat. There were thousands of them.

So many deaths.

As if in a trance, she slowly walked forwards. All the Utroms looked the same to her, with a few exceptions - some of them had scars or tattoos, and even a few piercings.

She was beginning to realize why Leonardo and Michelangelo had looked so lukewarm about Bishop's proposition to help them after the war.

The Utroms weren't losing the war, they had already lost. They must have survived only because they had hidden from the Kraang, and now… now the Kraang had found them.

An immense sadness fell upon April.

The Utrom's last hope as a species was to free as many Kraang as they could from Kraang Prime's domination, but from what Rook had said, they absolutely didn't have enough mixture to save their brethren across the entire Dimension X.

April took a deep sigh. As depressing as this was, it wasn't directly concerning her. She didn't understand why her instinct had guided her there…

Then she came across a picture that wasn't showing a Utrom. The person on it was human; a woman, to be precise.

And April knew that woman, with all her heart.

It was her mother.

"She was very courageous," a soft voice said behind her.

April recognized Rook, but she couldn't answer her. Her whole body was frozen.

"She helped us a lot," the Utrom went on. "We rescued her from the Kraang and she chose to stay with us. She said she wanted a safer world for her daughter and husband…"

"How…" April fought her tears. Rook was talking about her mother in the past tense, which could only mean one thing.

Rook immediately understood. "An ambush. It was quick, she didn't have the time to suffer."

April nodded.

Her mother had known the Utroms. She had fought with them. She hadn't come back to her family but chosen to help them in their fight…

April's emotions were so mixed up right now that she didn't know whether what she felt was sorrow, pain, or anger.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell my father?" she almost shouted. "We had the right to know!"

Rook hung her head in sadness. "Your mother… she was concerned that you would be dragged in our war too. She didn't want that."

April wiped her tears angrily. Leonardo and Michelangelo - still in his weird disguise - were running towards her, attracted by the noise.

"April! What's wrong?"

"Everything," she whispered to them. "Everything."

* * *

Donatello pushed Casey's butt to take a better look at the place he had landed. Apparently, they were both hiding in the ceiling of a very large room. How the closet could have led them there was a mystery to him. Maybe Mikey would have understood it, but his rational mind had a hard time with the mad physics of this place.

What he saw made him wince, and he immediately understood why Casey hadn't protested at being jostled.

It looked like every Kraang in the headquarters had gathered in this giant room. Row after row of Kraang Droids, dozens of Kraang ships, and icing in the cake, the big, pink, sickening shape of Kraang Prime stood below them. Kraang Prime must have been in the middle of a speech of some sort, because the Kraang were clapping their hands and tapping their feet, efficiently covering any noise Donatello and Casey could make.

"So, Donnie," Casey whispered casually. "How are you feeling these days?"

Donatello narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Casey cleared his throat. "Well, you know, I don't want to be offensive or anything, but…"

"But?"

"Uh… are you sure you can fight?"

Now Donatello was straight out glaring. "Didn't you see it?"

Casey extended his hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean, you're still recovering, right?"

Donatello grimaced. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he wasn't exactly in top shape. He might, in fact, not be in top shape at all. Really, really not at all.

"Well. Let's just hope we won't have to fight too much," he eluded.

Casey watched him with a dubious expression. "If you say so, Donnie."

"So." Donatello took a deep breath. He was annoyed that they had left Kraang Subprime in the laboratory, but he was still determined to carry out his plan. "Are you ready?"

"Casey Jones is born ready." Casey winked at him.

Donatello both snorted and smiled. Then, pipe by pipe and followed by Casey, he crawled to the gigantic Kraang Prime.

* * *

Splinter watched his reduced family, not showing how worried he was for them all. He had to remember that they could take care of themselves. He himself was feeling much better thanks to the Utrom medicine, but he wasn't back to his old self yet.

April especially impressed him. She seemed shocked, as was only natural after the last revelation - Splinter definitely intended to talk with her later, to let her know he was there for her - but she remained calm and determined.

For now, the Utrom council had called them in emergency to their room. Splinter grabbed his cane tightly and waited for what would probably be bad news.

Again.

"We've managed to get access to the video surveillance system of the Kraang," Bishop was saying. "We thought…" He hesitated, which was very unusual for him. "We thought you would want to see this."

Bishop stepped on the side to let them have a better look at the monitor behind him.

On this monitor, Donatello - his clever son, his precious baby - and Casey Jones were facing Kraang Prime in the middle of a room filled to the brim with Kraang droids and Kraang weapons.

They were apparently in a deep conversation with their sworn enemy.

Splinter's heart skipped several heartbeats. His boys were going to be the end of him, it was only a matter of time.

"Is that… Donnie?" Raphael asked, incredulous. " With Casey?"

"At least they're together," Michelangelo said.

Splinter had never seen him so calm and focused. It was almost as if he was an entirely different person in this alien dimension.

"What the heck do they think they're doing?" Leonardo almost shouted.

Splinter didn't correct his son's language, too busy wondering the exact same thing.

"It looks like your brother is …negotiating, perhaps?" Bishop said, his tone clearly indicating how bad an idea he considered it.

"With Kraang Prime. I knew it. I knew he was going to lose this crazy mind of his some day," Raphael said in a strangled voice, summing up what everybody else thought.


	20. All-Out Scheming

Donatello stood strong and proud and more than a little apprehensive in front of Kraang Prime. One of the most delicate parts of his plan had gone pretty well - that was, getting access to the brainy head of the Kraang without becoming toast.

Of course, Kraang Prime had shouted "Intruders" and half the cannons in the room were pointed at Casey and him, but they had his attention.

"Like I said," he repeated. "You've been betrayed."

Kraang Prime was looking at him with great suspicion. Donatello hoped that like all megalomaniacs, he was paranoid. He also hoped that this paranoia wouldn't turn against them too soon.

"Why would I believe you, turtle?"

"How else could we manage to get there?"

Donatello was betting that Kraang Prime didn't know exactly what Kraang Subprime had been up to. After all, nobody in the Kraang seemed to worry about where their second-in-command was.

At least it was the most probable theory.

"Tell me again who's supposed to have betrayed me," Kraang Prime demanded.

"It's Kraang Subprime." Donatello bowed his head, the perfect image of sadness. "Like I told you, he was using me to test a poison he had created. For you." Donatello glanced at Kraang Prime. "He wanted to take your place. To become Kraang Prime instead of Kraang Prime."

Kraang Prime blinked at him. "No Kraang would dare to betray Kraang Prime! Kraang are loyal to Kraang!"

"But Kraang Subprime is different, isn't he?" Donatello whispered. "You're not controlling him like you're controlling the others."

"Subprime proved his loyalty. He deserted the wretched Utroms for me!"

Donatello hid his excitation. So there _were_ another faction of aliens in Dimension X. He wondered if they were the 'traitors to their race' that Kraang Subprime had mentioned.

In any case, Kraang Prime had just given him precious information and he intended to use it.

Donatello leaned forwards, very slowly - he didn't want the Kraang around them to interpret his gesture as threatening - and whispered in what he thought was Kraang Prime's ear. "Yes, he deserted the Utroms, his family. He betrayed them. How can you be sure that he won't do the same with you?"

For the briefest of seconds, Kraang Prime trembled. "He wouldn't…"

"Are you sure? From what he told us, he was jealous of you. Because you're so much clever than he is."

Donatello was of the opinion that he deserved an Oscar for his performance, no less.

"Maybe…" Kraang Prime gazed into the distance. "You said he was trying to create a poison? He's no scientist. Unlike me, of course."

"Exactly." Donatello nodded. "And from scientist to scientist, I must say this secret laboratory of him was rather lame."

"Where is he?" Kraang Prime fidgeted. "Where is Subprime?"

"In this laboratory. I believe that some of your Kraang know where it is, even if I'm sure they had no idea they were betraying you." Donatello nodded. "Oh, and I'm afraid we had to froze him."

As Kraang Prime yelled to the Kraang to go get Subprime, Donatello exchanged a glance with Casey. Was his plan going to work?

Luckily for them, the Kraang scientists that had been working for Subprime were blabbering that yes, Subprime was testing a poison, and no, they weren't sure he had told them the truth about his plans, now that they were thinking about it Subprime had always looked a little weird, he wasn't like the other Kraang, and please Kraang Prime be merciful.

"Let's settle this now," Kraang Prime whispered to himself. "I don't need traitors behind my back in this decisive battle, I don't."

"Do you think he's talking about these Utroms?" Casey whispered to Donatello.

Apparently, Kraang Prime had a keen earing, because his little eyes narrowed. "Who are you calling _him_, boy? I'm a girl! Can't you see it?"

Casey gaped.

"Of course, Madam, my friend apologizes," Donatello hurried to say, nudging Casey. Now wasn't the time to tell a gigantic brain with tentacles that he could never have guessed it either.

"Yes, sorry," Casey managed to say. "I should have known, only a lady could have…uh… be such a big brain like you. Bigger than my friend's Donnie, and his is very big. Very, very big."

"Shut up, Casey," Donatello gritted out.

But Kraang Prime seemed rather amused by this. "Indeed, human."

The Kraang droids were already coming back with the chamber and its content.

Kraang Prime watched the frozen Kraang Subprime pensively. Donatello wondered whether the alien was going to be imprisoned with or without a judgement, or whether Kraang Prime would allow him to present a defense. He probably wouldn't have a lawyer.

Kraang Prime waved her tentacles, and before Donatello had the time to realize what was happening she jumped on the chamber.

It crashed, flattening the frozen Kraang Subprime and his uniquely vile spirit.

"Better safe than sorry, like you humans say," Kraang Prime muttered before turning her attention back to Donatello and Casey. "Thanks for bringing this to my attention. And now..." She smiled. "I wouldn't want you to interfere with my future plans. I hope you understand."

Donatello tensed. He really hoped that his other little scheme would work, or his life and Casey's were going to end very soon. He wondered what his family would say if they knew where he was. It was probably a good thing they didn't know; they would have freaked out for sure.

"Kill them!" Kraang Prime shouted to her minions.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Donatello, his family all together had a front-row seat to his performance, audio excluded.

"What is he saying? What is he saying?" Raphael asked, so close to the screen that it was a wonder he could see anything.

"We need to join them!" Leonardo begged the Utroms. "Can you open a portal to that place?"

Bishop shook his head. "No. We couldn't pinpoint the exact location of it."

"Which is too bad, because if we could spray all these Kraang we would stand a much better chance," Rook mused. "What?" she added when the others glared at her.

"How are you connecting to the video surveillance system?" Savage Mikey asked suddenly.

"Through this." Bishop indicated a control panel embedded in the circular table of the room. "Do you think you could help?"

"Leave it to a professional," Savage Mikey said grimly.

* * *

Donatello was only half-satisfied with the way his well-although-quickly thought-out plan was unfolding.

On their way to Kraang Subprime, they had let little antennae fall on the Kraang robotic bodies - antennae that Donatello had manufactured from Irma's spare parts during their journey in the ship, as a way to keep himself busy - and Donatello hoped that they would all interfere with each other and with the robotic bodies of the Kraang to create enough chaos to allow them to escape.

The weak point of that plan was that he had no idea how they had gotten there, and thus he didn't know where the exit was.

It was, all things considered, a problem.

Another problem becoming more and more pressing was the weariness spreading through Donatello's body. He was reaching the end of his physical strength way too quickly.

Casey was dragging him by the arm, using his improvised hockey stick to knock out the Kraang - Kraang busy firing at each other, so at least there was that. The teenage boy had chosen to head towards one of the screens displayed across the room so every Kraang could see Kraang Prime.

Suddenly, Donatello noticed something weird with that screen. The image of Kraang Prime was flickering on a familiar pattern.

Morse code.

Donatello narrowed his eyes. Who could be trying to communicate like this?

A moment later, he had his answer.

"Casey, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?" he said to his partner, trying to sound relaxed.

Casey gritted his teeth. "I could do with some good news."

"Good news is, we're about to have backup after all."

Casey hit the closest Kraang. "And the bad news?"

Donatello cleared his throat. "I need to access that control panel over here." He indicated a location at the other side of the room.

It didn't escape Casey's notice. "Donnie, it's on the other side of the room!"

"Not my fault you chose the wrong path," Donatello said with a pinch of bad faith.

Casey huffed and turned back.

* * *

Leonardo waited in anticipation as Michelangelo worked his magic with the Utroms' monitor. He didn't know what exactly changed his brother so much in this dimension, but he wasn't going to complain. For now, it was exactly what they needed.

"It is done, my brothers," Savage Mikey said. "Now let's just hope that Donnie will pick the hint."

"Nice job, Mikey."

Leonardo glanced at April, who was watching the screen where Donatello and Casey were running through a flood of Kraang apparently gone mad. Her drawn features showed how tense she was.

He hesitated. There was something he had to ask. "April?"

"Yes, Leo?" April wasn't looking at him.

"What if…" Leonardo cleared his throat. "What if the Kraang have the same kind of defenses that Irma had? You know, when you… uh…"

"Fainted. You can say it, Leo," April answered. "Don't worry. I won't let it surprise me this time. In fact, I intend to surprise _them_."

Leonardo took her word for it. She seemed about to explode, literally. He wouldn't have wanted to be a Kraang right now.

He turned his attention back to the screen, watching his brother and Casey's progression. _Come on, Donnie,_ he thought as strong as he could. _You can do this._

* * *

Donatello breathed deeply. Going forwards was becoming more and more difficult, but now wasn't the time to give out.

He was going to fight to the very end. For his brothers, his father and his friends.

And for himself.

_Be strong like the mountain._

Casey reached the control panel. In a last move, he pulled Donatello forwards and almost flattened him against it. Donatello didn't protest and immediately began to type.

A shiny pink portal opened.

* * *

Half a second later, Donatello and Casey were surrounded by three very determined turtles, a not amused-at-all rat and a grim-looking teenager.

"How did you manage to get here?" he asked, panting.

"How did we… you mean, how did _you_ manage to get here," Raphael said with great indignation.

"Are you alright, my son?" Splinter asked with concern.

"Of course, Sensei."

"Very good. Still, will you please stop getting yourself in these situations?"

Donatello cleared his throat. "I shall do my best."

* * *

April made her way through the Kraang crowd, avoiding the panicking droids with ease.

The few Utroms along with the turtles were disseminating the substance designed to free the Kraang from Kraang Prime's dominion; and indeed, she could feel the connection of the hive minds to their queen weaken and break.

At some point, a portal opened behind Kraang Prime. She saw Michelangelo do something to it, and the portal closed, preventing the leader of the Kraang from escaping.

She wasn't concerned about herself. She was beyong that. From time to time, she felt attempts to influence her - to control her even - but the grief and the rage were like walls around her mind.

The feelings she had been bottling up since she had learned her mother's fate were threatening to explode. She pushed them down, a little more… Just a little more…

She was facing Kraang Prime. She heard people shouting warnings at her. Kraang Prime was gathering her tentacles, maybe getting ready to jump on her…

She released her emotions and her powers in one furious mix. She didn't know whether she was shouting or communicating telepathically - maybe both.

"This is for my friends! This is for my father! And this is for my mother!"

In a furious and desperate yell, Kraang Prime collapsed.

* * *

Donatello had a hard time believing what had just happened.

A few minutes ago, he was running away from a powerful alien species. Now Utroms were masters of the situation and Kraang Prime was knocked out.

He spotted April in the distance. She was on her knees in front of the gigantic brain; he had to go there and make sure that she was alright, but his brothers wouldn't let go of him - and Splinter was kneeling next to April, and he couldn't hear what he said but she buried her face in his chest - and Donatello exhaled a deep, deep sigh.

"What happened?" he asked his brothers.

Raphael snorted in his left ear. "You see, we have the craziest adventures when you're not here," he said with happy irony.

"Long story," Leonardo whispered in his right ear.

Donatello nodded. He would ask for details later. "Thanks, Mikey. That Morse code, very clever."

"You're welcome, Donnie," Michelangelo whispered from the top of his head.

Somehow, he managed to hold there without putting any pressure on Donatello's weary muscles.

"What a crazy adventure," Donatello whispered. "I would never have expected this ending."

"Well, I hope you're enjoying the journey, because Splinter will never let you out of the lair again," Raphael said.

"Yes, you were supposed to stay grounded, remember?" Leonardo added, teasing.

"What? I was kidnapped!" Donatello protested.

"I don't think it's going to make any difference." Raphael grinned.

Donatello grunted. "Oh come on."

"And what about me?" Casey protested. "No hugs? No you're-grounded-forever threats?"

Raphael grinned at his friend. "Nah. Nobody expects you to stop getting yourself in trouble. It would be too much to ask for."

"But you can have a hug," Michelangelo said, using his nunchucks to pull Casey to them. "Even if Raph won't say he was worried about you, he was."

"I was not," Raphael protested.

Donatello grinned at nobody in particular, then tensed when he saw April and Splinter come to them.

He didn't know what he was going to tell her.


	21. Epilogue

Donatello stretched his arms out. After this movie night, he felt strangely relaxed. Maybe staying out late was less stressing than fighting aliens or tipping the scales of a centuries-year-old war, who knew?

He felt better than ever. He had benefited from the Utroms' medicine and honestly, he deemed himself ready to get out again.

Too bad his father had different ideas, and this ridiculous notion that trying to double-cross dangerous enemies on his own was strictly forbidden.

Even if it worked.

So Donatello's last outing had been to watch the Utroms judge Kraang Prime guilty of enslaving another species, disrupting the peace of the galaxy, killing fellow Utroms and a few more, and condemn her to permanent exile. Since then, he was grounded.

He had tried to tell his brothers that they shouldn't stay in their new lair with him all the time, but for some reason they felt edgy doing so. It was exactly as if they feared he would disappear if they lost visual contact with him.

At least said new lair kept him busy. It was another subway station, bigger than the old lair. Donatello had put surveillance cameras almost everywhere around it - his family had vetoed the cameras in the lair itself, and especially in the bathroom - and he finally felt safe.

It was even closer to April's place than the old one.

Donatello's expression grew somber as he thought about April. He had been relieved to learn that she already knew about her mother, but it still pained him to see her grief.

It turned out that Kraang Subprime had lied about one thing: April's mother hadn't helped the Utroms for three months, but for almost a year. She had kept a diary that was now one of April's most prized possessions.

Donatello was glad she knew more about her past, even if she hadn't been pleased with the fact he had kept his intentions a secret. Blushing, he remembered what she had told her when he had admitted that he was investigating the Kraang ship in her basement to find out the truth.

"_You're coming first, Donnie. The living always come first."_

He guessed she was right. And Donatello was most certainly grateful that they were all alive, even though they had lost a lot in the destruction of their old lair.

Although they had managed to save more from the wreckage than he would have thought, including a sprout from the old dojo tree. It would take centuries before it grew to be a big, powerful tree, but it was alive, too.

Donatello watched the pile of bodies tangled on the couch around him - at least two of them faking sleep - and decided that he could sleep a little more.

It was well-deserved.

* * *

**The End**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Harmful Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280190) by Anonymous 


End file.
